


Summer Home

by Charmkeeper



Series: Home [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Asexual Character, Attempted Kidnapping, Being changed into a werewolf, Break Up, Canon-Typical Violence, Cheesecake, Child to Adult, Coffee Shops, Cuddling, Dealing with Children/Babies, Deals with Fae, Friendship, Gladnis, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, IgNoct, M/M, Minor Character Death, Motion Sickness, Navigating Dreams, Nightmares, Packs are tight knit things, Pining, Plans Go Awry, Series of Oneshots, Talking Through Feelings, Thoughts of Suicide, Ultimatums, backstories, starting a relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-05-03 23:08:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 59,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14579631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charmkeeper/pseuds/Charmkeeper
Summary: A series of oneshots related toFinding Home.Chapter 1: Not EnoughChapter 2: Vow of VengeanceChapter 3: Separation AnxietyChapter 4: The BornChapter 5: HeartbeatChapter 6: BaristaChapter 7: TakenChapter 8: SacrificeChapter 9: Maybe UsChapter 10: Driving LessonChapter 11: First NightChapter 12: ConfessionChapter 13: Lost SoulChapter 14: Almost-Ignis would give almost anything to be with his pack right now. Almost.





	1. Not Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being the son of the pack's second in command meant that Gladio grew up with werewolves. Ignis is just one of many such wolves that weave in and out of his life, but the older Gladio gets the more he thinks Ignis is special to him. To someone eternally young, age should be just a number, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO.
> 
> So this is where I'm going to dump all the little (or not so little) oneshots that I write that are set in the same timeline as _Finding Home_. I'll tell you where in the timeline the chapters fall, and if they're strictly canon to the story, and I will warn you about unhappy endings. I will also be updating the summary and tags with every update, adding in the new chapter summary/title, and adding in the pairings and new tags relating to the new oneshot.
> 
> I'll start right now.
> 
> This oneshot **starts twenty-three years** before _Finding Home_ begins and **ends nine years** before it begins. The main pairing is **Gladnis** , and though the overall story is not meant to have an unhappy ending this oneshot ends on an **unhappy** point in their stories.
> 
> This oneshot is 100% **canon** to _Finding Home_. It started out just being Gladio's past with Ignis, but to be honest it's turned into a pretty good general backstory of what he was up to in his youth...just...focused on Ignis.
> 
> Though it is **not necessary** to read _Finding Home_ to understand this oneshot, I would, of course, love it if you read it anyway.
> 
> Please enjoy.

The first time Gladio really saw Ignis, he was twelve years old.

This wasn't to say he'd never actually seen him before. His father was second in a very large group of werewolves. He'd probably seen Ignis plenty of times before that, but, with all the arrogance of a child who'd been spoiled, he'd never paid attention to the tall man who who never seemed to wear a genuine smile. In fact, the only reason he even noticed him at twelve was the fact that he wandered into their house after Noctis one night and sat down at their kitchen table.

Gladio definitely knew Noctis. He was their regular babysitter, and that meant that he was at their house at least once a week while his parents participated in "date night," a concept that, at the age of twelve, still made Gladio gag.

It was actually little Iris, eyes wide with wonder, who asked who the man was. "Who? Ignis?" Noctis looked over at the table, a frown deep set in his face. "Specs! Say hi!" In response, Ignis raised a hand and gave it a small, not unkind, but disinterested wave, before lowering it and returning his full attention to the papers in front of him. "He's nice, promise. Just...busy."

Iris took Noct's words to heart, but Gladio was harder to convince. Noct was a normal, or even fun presence in the house, but Ignis just sat there, a pen scratching at various papers while Noctis ran around with Iris, their laughter and screaming giggles seeming to totally not even pierce the outermost layer his brain. "Is he deaf?"

"Ignis? ...No? Busy." Noct said the word again with a shrug. "He's fine, Gladio. Leave him alone." There must have been something about the way he was staring that told Noctis he wasn't going to leave anything alone, and his babysitter sighed. "I'm going to go get a couple board games, and I swear if you don't back off, I'm picking Candy Land first."

The threat of Candy Land and pink gumdrops in his future was almost enough to deter Gladio. Almost. With Iris and Noctis gone from the room to get games, he was alone with the (as far as he was concerned) uninvited guest. The temptation was too much. He hadn't been invited, he wasn't watching them, in fact, all he did was sit there and ignore them. Gladio wouldn't stand for it. "What's your problem?"

"Now there is a temper if I ever saw one." Ignis spoke for the first time, his voice a soft lilt of "I don't come from here" that Gladio couldn't place. "Careful, Gladiolus. You'll need to learn to _temper_ your _temper_ now, before it becomes a problem later."

Those words only made Gladio frown more. "You didn't answer the question."

"Because there is no answer. I don't have a problem. You do. I also suggest you swallow it down now, or you'll be stuck playing Candy Land all night- a fate worse than death, if Noct's tone is anything to go by."

"You're treating me like a kid." The words were out of his mouth as soon as they occurred to him, and, for the first time, the smallest hint of a smile tugged at Ignis' lips.

"Because you _are_ a child."

"I'm twelve."

"Are you now?" The pen was actually set down against the stack of papers in front of him, and Ignis sat up straight. Gladio knew he was tall for a child of his age, but even so, Ignis was taller. "Time does fly, doesn't it? I truly had not realized you were so old now. Regardless, twelve is still but a child. Cherish that fact. Childhood slips away faster than water through a drain. However, if you come to me in ten years and ask me to treat you like an adult, I will gladly do so. For now..." Ignis smiled, looking beyond Gladio's shoulder, and his heart sank knowing that Noctis had returned and had seen that he was still bugging the uninvited guest. "Have fun playing Candy Land."

Gladio did not have fun playing Candy Land, and actively avoided Ignis from that point forward. It wasn't hard to do, after all, Ignis didn't show up very often. Usually he only showed up as a silent shadow to Noctis, and settled himself into the nearest quiet spot to work on whatever project the pack had given him. His father never spoke of Ignis at all, in fact, it seemed like no one did, save for Noctis himself, and even he only really mentioned the man in passing, or just the teasing, "Don't worry, your sworn enemy is stuffing his stolen princess in a different tower today."

Noct treated him like a kid too, but he got away with it, if only because Gladio actually liked Noctis.

* * *

The second time Gladio truly came face to face Ignis he was sixteen.

His mother had died that morning.

"This isn't the way to the den." That one sentence was more than Iris had spoken since that morning, and it broke Gladio's heart to hear it. She was only eight years old. She shouldn't have to suffer through her mother's death. He was sixteen. He knew enough to know that it was cancer that had killed her, and not that she hadn't tried hard enough, or that she hadn't wanted to live. He was old enough that he'd have strong, clear memories of her for the rest of his life. Gladio was afraid that all Iris would remember of her was how bad it'd been in the end.

"That's because we're not going to the den, sweetheart," his father's voice was soft and broken with emotion, but deep down all Gladio felt toward him was anger. He was a werewolf. He could have saved her. He could have _changed_ her. She wouldn't have died then. Instead he'd only stood there and watched as his wife - his mate died. He didn't get to be sad about it. Not when he could have done something.

He bit back the emotions that threatened to explode past his lips and turned to look out the window. Iris was certainly right. The den was in the opposite direction from here. Going this way, they'd soon be halfway to Gralea. Who the fuck lived this far out from the den? When he asked, his father sighed. "Ignis Scientia does. He's lived in the same house since he came to us however many years ago it's been now."

Ignis. Gladio crinkled his nose. Of course they were going to the house of the man he wanted to see the least. "Is Noct at Ignis' house?" Iris' question was said so very hopefully, and it broke his heart all over again when his father answered with a negative. Noctis was apparently off doing something else, and Ignis had agreed to watch them in his stead. Great. Best day ever.

Compared to the den, Ignis' house was tiny. It had two floors, but just barely, and honestly, Gladio was certain that this was more meant to be a cabin that rich people visited on the weekends than a home. His father said this was the place though, and sure enough, Ignis answered the door with the fakest ass smile Gladio had ever seen, and ushered them all inside.

The kitchen was sizeable, and was painted a comforting buttery yellow, but Gladio wasn't even able to properly take it in before Ignis ushered him and Iris off into the smaller living room to linger while the "adults" talked. Feeling left out, Gladio eavesdropped. His ears weren't as good as a werewolf's, but they weren't exactly speaking quietly either.

"Noctis says he'll be back in the morning, and he'll arrange for the flowers. I know he seems unreliable at times, but--"

"No. This is good. I've seen his arrangements before. They'll be beautiful. Thank you."

"Don't thank me. I'm doing the easy part."

"I wouldn't say that. Gladio and Iris can be a handful."

"I handled Noctis at those ages," Ignis deadpanned, and his father, for the first time all day, chuckled.

"Touche. Still, don't hesitate to call me if they're too much, Ignis. That's an order."

"Yes, sir." A pause. "I'm truly sorry for your loss. I know I don't have any emotional comparison, but--"

"No. You know what it's like to lose someone close to your heart. May you know no more pain than losing your uncle the way you did."

A long, awkward pause followed. "You should go. I know Regis is waiting for you."

"Of course. Thank you again."

Gladio scrambled away from the doorway as he heard it open and close, and a few moments later, Ignis appeared, just as his father turned on the engine outside. "It'll be dinnertime soon. What would you like me to make you?"

"Cup noodles." Gladio didn't know a lot about Ignis, but he had gleaned one thing over the years: He liked to cook and abhorred what he considered to be lesser foods. It was a precise jab at Ignis' sensibilities, but also an honest answer. Cup noodles were comforting to him, and, unfortunately for Ignis, Iris next to him nodded her head in agreement.

"Cup noodles are good."

It was at precisely this moment that Gladio learned that when Ignis Scientia held himself back his jaw set _just so_ and his arms folded over his chest. "I...don't have that in the house, but I'll see what I can do. For now..." the werewolf's face disappeared into a cabinet, as did his hands for a brief moment before he emerged with three DVDs in hand. "Choose one." The choices were offered to Iris, and the girl, red eyed and puffy faced picked _The Little Mermaid_ to Gladio's quiet disgust. It truly was one of his least favorite of all the Disney movies, but he didn't fight the choice. When it came down to it, there were a lot of things Gladio hated right now, his father, Ignis, this house, it's lack of Cup Noodles, cancer, but Iris wasn't anywhere near the list, and if his little sister wanted to watch a sixteen year old girl dream about marrying a man in his twenties...well, he'd let it go. Today.

At just about the time that Ariel was combing her hair with a fork at the dining table, something delicious smelling starting emanating from the kitchen, and Gladio excused himself from the couch to go check it out. He didn't get far. The buttery yellow kitchen greeted him just long enough for him to see that Ignis was definitely making some sort of soup, but Ignis himself turned around so quickly that it was truly a little frightening. "Out, Gladiolus."

"Sorry, I--"

"Just _out_."

Gladio obeyed and sunk back onto the couch with a huff. "Geez!" He wasn't even so angry as much as confused. He knew some cooks were protective of their kitchens, but he never imagined that Ignis could be passionate about anything, let alone a stupid soup. He let himself ponder over it for a minute before Iris sidled up to him, leaning against him heavily, and Gladio's heart sank in sympathy, Ignis' possessive behavior forgotten, at least until the man emerged from his domain, two large bowls in hand.

"So what's the great secret soup?"

"It's ramen," Ignis said in his normal manner, setting one bowl on the coffee table before using his now free hand to pull the table close enough to the couch that they both could reach. "Real ramen, not your powdered instant. I took the liberty of assuming neither one of you actually knows how to use chop sticks. Here," the second bowl was set on the table in front of Iris, and both of them were offered forks that looked silver, but Gladio knew weren't, if they were in the house of a werewolf. "Be careful. It's hot, and your father will have my hide if you come back with burnt mouths."

Ignis moved away from them then, and Iris immediately, being the ever obedient child, went back to watching the movie, Gladio on the other hand felt the urge to shove a spoonful on his mouth immediately, burnt mouths and skinned werewolves be dammed. He picked up the fork to do just that when he heard the distinct clearing of a throat from behind him, and when he turned to look he saw Ignis leaning against the room's threshold, green eyes peering through glasses clearly unamused with his antics.

Gladio put the fork down.

About ten minutes later, Iris picked up her fork and began to twirl long noodles on it. No clearing of a throat came from behind them this time, and Gladio assumed that meant it was okay now, and he followed suit. Gladio could swear that heaven hit his tongue. Cup Noodles were amazing, but this was something else. A god had made this. There was complexity in the broth, the noodles weren't complete mush and tasted...fresh, there were vegetables, and meat, and...heaven. Ignis had been right. If he'd eaten this when it had first come out, he would have burned his tongue, and he would have missed out on what this really was.

"Hey, this is--" When he turned in his seat, the doorway was empty, and Gladio's heart sank a little. The first really nice thing he'd ever wanted to say to Ignis, and he wasn't here to hear it. He sighed, and turned back around to his bowl.

"It's good," Iris said a little absently while her eyes were still glued to the screen.

"It's better than good."

When the movie was finished, Ignis returned and began to usher Iris upstairs for a bath and then bed. "You can watch whatever you like from the cabinet," he said to Gladio, "I'm afraid it's mostly Disney movies though. Noctis likes them."

" 'S fine."

One of the few things he found that wasn't Disney was a collection of Looney Tunes cartoons, and he began to watch that. It was somewhat mindless to watch, but Gladio wasn't looking for something that made him think. Ignis returned during a _Pepe Le Pew_ episode, and collected his and Iris' bowls. "You watch these when you were a kid?" Gladio asked, jerking his head toward the screen. Ignis looked up at the television, and for a moment, Gladio thought he'd hit the nail on the head by the way his face seemed to glaze over in nostalgia, but then Ignis shook his head.

"No. This was Noctis' childhood. He had to see every single one," he gave a soft _ha_ that didn't match the expression on his face, "Even after he'd ceased being a child."

For the first time, Gladio wondered how old Ignis really was.

Sometime later, Ignis reappeared in the living room, "Iris is in bed now, and I'm heading off myself. Are you all right with the couch?"

"Yeah. It's fine. You want me in bed now too?"

Gladio paused the screen, and looked back at Ignis, whose lips were pursed as though he were angry. When he finally spoke, his voice wasn't angry at all, in fact, it very soft. "I'm trusting you to go to bed when you're tired, and to keep the volume down low enough to not wake Iris. Can I trust you with that?"

Trust. The word struck something within Gladio and without thinking he sat up straighter before looking Ignis in the eye for as long as he could without looking away. "You can trust me."

He didn't miss the way Ignis' lips quirked up into a smile that Gladio hoped was approval and not just Ignis thinking he was silly. "Good night, Gladiolus."

"Night."

It was nearly midnight when he began to properly yawn and he turned the television off, but by one in the morning he was still awake, lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling. Without the television, or Iris, or Ignis, or his father...the thoughts had crept in, the full force of the fact that he was never going to eat a meal his mother had made had sunk in. The full force of never seeing her smile, or hearing her laugh. She would never have date night with his father again. She was gone, and it kept him up, the ache in his heart growing ever stronger until he wanted to cry, but he tried not to. Crying was a weakness, even when you were alone.

Upstairs, Iris suddenly wailed. Gladio was off the couch and up the stairs in an instant, but Ignis had somehow been even faster. He looked like a different man kneeling beside the bed Iris was sitting in, his glasses gone, hair down, semi-formal clothes replaced with pajamas. "I -hic- want my mama!" Iris sobbed, and Gladio's heart broke in his chest, knowing that even though he didn't say it, that was exactly what he really wanted too.

"I know," Ignis whispered, his hands hovering over her shoulders, "I'd give her to you if I could--"

"Where's Daddy?!" Her sobs only grew in volume, and Gladio found himself rooted to the spot in the doorway as he watched the situation devolve, and Ignis begin to panic. "I want Gladdy! Or Noct! Where are they?!"

"I..." Ignis bit his lip, looking to the doorway in an expression that he somehow found even more painful than his sister's cries. "Gladiolus is here. It's okay. Look." Iris did, her face breaking down into an even more ugly cry.

"Gladd--y!" Her arms reached out, her hands opening and closing in an expression of want, and Gladio went to her. Her arms instantly wrapped around him with more strength than a girl her age had any right to have. His shoulder was wet with tears in seconds.

"Why don't you take her to my bed," Ignis said gently behind him. "It's big enough. I'll be downstairs if you need me." Ignis backed out of the room and began down the stairs, and Gladio whisked his little sister off to Ignis' bed, where they both eventually fell asleep, tears staining both of their faces.

The next morning Noctis came before they woke, and they didn't see Ignis again until the funeral.

* * *

Looking back, Gladio would say his mother's death caused him to become a bit of a hellion. He was always in trouble for something or another, whether it was for fighting in school, smoking, staying out too late...the list went on.  His teachers liked to say that he was an excellent student in the classroom, but it ended at the door. The anger he'd had since he since he was a little child had gotten worse, and Gladio knew it, but couldn't find it in himself to care.

During the moments that he wasn't grounded, he found that Noctis was becoming more than a babysitter, but was becoming a good friend. Noctis was older than him, like all the wolves in the pack were, but he didn't look as old as some, not to say that any of them looked older than thirty, his father included, but more that they dressed that way. Not Noctis. He was physically probably in his early twenties, and dressed like it. T-shirts and jeans, and stupid baseball caps from time to time. He liked video games, and fishing, and sleeping in until noon.

It was sad to say it, but aside from Iris, Noctis was the most positive influence in his life, and, by extension, so was Ignis.

"How was the movie?"

"Good," Noctis said as he leaned against the counter, a yawn on his lips, hands doing childish motions for the mug of coffee that Ignis offered him. "I really like this phase Disney is going through. This weird, not quite right phase."

Gladio silently agreed. It had taken the actual name Jim Hawkins for him to realize that _Treasure Planet_ was a retelling of _Treasure Island_ , and he had liked it that way.

"Have you read the book?"

It took a second for Gladio to realize that Ignis is talking to him, but it was Nocits that answered, "There's a book?"

"Noctis!" Ignis exclaimed, exasperated. "You have _literally_ read the book!"

"I have?"

"Yes! It was when you were--" Ignis cut himself off as a sigh of increased exasperation escapes his lips. "Nevermind. Just. Nevermind. What about you, Gladiolus?"

Gladio shook his head a little. "We read a summarized version as part of English in third grade, but that doesn't really count."

"You're right," Ignis said, his tone shifting from exasperation to the height of disapproval that normally riled Gladio up past the point of no return, but honestly amused him more in this instance. "It doesn't count." Ignis' can of Ebony was sat on the countertop, and the man disappeared into another room.

"Why don't _I_ ever get coffee when we visit?" Gladio asked while Ignis was gone doing...whatever it was that he'd left to do.

Noctis' lips curled into a smirk as he sipped from his mug, "Because Specs genuinely thinks you have to be eighteen to drink coffee."

"I'll be eighteen in six months!"

"Yeah, and that's in six months," Noctis snorted, amused. "For now, if you want a hot drink, it's tea or cocoa...or water. He'd probably give you hot water."

"Shut up, that's _disgusting_."

Noctis was still laughing at the look on his face when Ignis returned with a book in his hand. "Here," he said, offering the book to Gladio. "Let me know what you think when you're done."

The book, of course, was _Treasure Island_. Gladio spent the next few days reading it. He liked it. He told Ignis, and Ignis then gave him _Oliver Twist_. He liked that too, just as he liked every book Ignis gave him after that. Soon, it became a weekly thing, almost like a book club, except Ignis had already read all the books, and so they're only waiting on him to finish them so that they could discuss. After a month, Noctis started to call them nerds, but Gladio didn't mind. Noctis was always smiling when he said it, so he could take it for what it really was; affection.

Six months later, it had been four months since he'd gotten into a fight, three months since he'd smoked, and five days since his eighteenth birthday. Ignis immediately answered the door when he knocked. "I finished _Call of the Wild_ ," he said instead of a greeting, and Ignis smiled, stepping aside so that Gladio could come into the house.

"Would you like coffee?" He asks as he closed the door. Gladio could swear that his heart stopped in his chest. He was eighteen now, and just as Noctis said he would, Ignis was treating him like one. It was at that point that Gladio realized that it'd been years since he'd hated Ignis, but now he liked him and wanted his approval, perhaps more than he cared to admit.

"I would love coffee."

That was also the day Gladio realized Ignis' bright smile made butterflies flutter in his stomach.

* * *

"Don't even think about it."

"Think about what?"

"Specs. Asking him out. Hitting on him. Whatever it is you're specifically thinking about right now." Noctis doesn't even look up from his Gameboy SP where he's currently fighting one gym leader or another in _Pokemon Silver._ ( "What? It's my favorite Pokemon game." )

"Ignis isn't even here right now."

"And yet," Noctis said, flopping back onto the bed, holding his arms above his head as he played, "You are definitely thinking about him. I can smell it. Don't even."

Noctis wasn't wrong. The crush he'd developed on Ignis had only been getting worse over the last few months, and the man had slowly taken over his thoughts entirely. "Why? You jealous?"

The way Noctis' cheeked twinged pink bellied the real answer, but Noctis shook his head determinedly, "No. You're just too young for him."

"I'm nineteen! I'm an adult."

"Suuuuureeee you are."

Noctis' voice irked Gladio with its sarcasm. "I am!" He wasn't allowed to drink yet, but he was legal for almost anything else, including dating whoever he wanted, if they wanted him back.

His friend sighed, and he shut the SP, set it aside, and twisted his head to look up at Gladio. "Look. I get it. Your ID says you're all legal now. Yeah. It does, and that means Dad's stopped giving me the _eye_ for hanging out with you, but you're still at that weird age where most werewolves don't know what to do with you. That includes Specs."

"I don't understand."

"Of...course you don't." Noctis sighed again, and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Like...legal doesn't mean shit to werewolves. I mean, it _does_ , but it doesn't. Murder to us is a-okay to us as long as it's justified. We live in packs, like weirdos. People probably think we have like twelve wives. We probably come off as cult-ish to outsiders. We don't age. That's just the tip of the iceberg there. All that means age really does become 'just a number' after a certain point. That point isn't eighteen. At eighteen you become legal, yeah. We acknowledge that, but you're not done growing. You haven't hit your ideal 'werewolf' age yet. Specs didn't look at me like an adult until I was twenty-one. He didn't treat me like a kid once I was eighteen, but he didn't actually treat me like I was his equal until twenty-one. I always always more dominant than him, but it didn't matter until then. It's gonna be the same for you, no matter how much book club you two nerds have."

Now that he'd explained it, it made a sad sort of sense. He'd always just assumed that once it was legal, it was okay, but he should have known better. Wolves didn't operate by the same rules that humans did. They couldn't. Ignis wouldn't even look at him like an adult for at least two more years, and what felt even more stupid was that Ignis had told him that, all the way back when they'd first met. " _If you come to me in ten years and ask me to treat you like an adult, I will gladly do so._ " That was what he'd said. Ten plus twelve was twenty-two. Gladio had always thought it had been an exaggeration, but it wasn't. He could see that now, with Noctis' help.

"So _stop_ ," Noctis said next to him. "Ignis is dense, but he's got a good nose. You start feeling all that much attracted to him while you're alone, and he'll sniff it out, and then he'll tell you to back off. It won't be gentle. He'll stop book club. He'll cut off all ties with you and Iris. It will crush you."

Gladio nodded, his heart feeling like lead in his chest. "Thanks...for warning me."

"Hey," Noctis put a hand on Gladio's knee as he sat up. "I love and care about you. I want you to be happy. If you still feel the same way in a couple years, then you can pursue him, and even if he says no, it won't be that bad. He won't cut you off. Just...wait. You can wait, right?"

He could. He would.

* * *

When Gladio was twenty, he began training with Ignis. It wasn't a random idea, for a literature major to just start taking up "fight club." It came about after a vampire attack. It hadn't been Ignis who had saved them, but Noctis, showing up in a blaze of literal fire. It was a lucky thing too. Gladio wasn't a small man, but a vampire, like a werewolf, was something otherworldly in strength, and he had lacked the finesse to fend off the attacker. Iris had almost gotten bitten. It was easily one of the worst things that had _ever_ happened to him, and he never wanted anything like that to happen again, but Noctis wouldn't train him.

"Sorry, but my style relies too much on my magic. Ask Specs." When Gladio had narrowed his eyes suspiciously, Noctis had both rolled his eyes and held his hands up defensively. "No. Seriously. Ask him to train you. He's got skills under that button-up. He'll teach you how to _handle a sword_." That time, Gladio was positive that Noct meant the innuendo, but he'd let it go. He'd also taken the advice.

"Me?" Ignis genuinely looked surprised at the request, his eyebrows arched so far up that Gladio was a little surprised they didn't actually disappear into his hairline. "Not your father?"

"Dad's...never been very good at teaching." Even as a kid trying to ride a bike without training wheels, learning _anything_ from his father had been difficult. His father was very much a "and you just do it" sort of man, and the look of understanding that spread over Ignis' face indicated that he wasn't the only victim of it.

"Fair enough, I suppose." Ignis took a long draft from his coffee. "Did you have a weapon in mind?"

"Don't most people use guns nowadays?"

Ignis nodded curtly. "Humans, sure, but without excellent aim for head-shots, guns tend to be rather useless against the supernatural. I tend toward knives, myself. Small and able to be concealed. You'd probably favor something bigger, but we can start with basic self defense."

"Sounds good."

They set it up so that they trained together twice a week, and for the next six months Gladio spent a lot of time on his back in the pack gym. It was a bit humiliating, to be honest. Ignis was now a fair bit shorter than him, slimmer than him, but he could lift and throw him like he was a ten pound sack of sugar. He didn't even break a sweat doing it. Noctis had been right on the money; that button-up hid skills.

"So...are you more or less skilled than a vampire?"

"Depends on the vampire," Ignis said, shoving a bottle of water at Gladio after their latest session. "You can't look them in the eye, they'll get the hypnotic advantage that way, and unlike us, a single bite in takes a mind-hold, so they are more dangerous in that way. They're also more cautious. They have to be. Sunlight does kill them, they are completely vulnerable during daylight hours. It's a complicated thing, to say whether I'm more or less skilled than a vampire. I don't precisely run into them all the time. You should ask Cor. There are a lot of them in Gralea."

"Okay, but in general, you feel you could defend yourself from one."

"In general, yes. I like to think myself capable of protecting Noctis if anything less than a demi-god shows itself."

"A demi-god? Seriously?"

Ignis chuckled, "I'm very pleased to see your father has been keeping you apprised of the world's supernatural perils. Don't fret, I very highly doubt you'll ever come into contact with a being higher than a mid-grade fae. Most of us don't."

"So, basically, as a human, I'm fucked."

"I wouldn't say that. Again. It depends. I do suggest we continue our lessons. You are mundane, but lessons and knowledge will go a long way."

Mundane. Gladio knew the word was used for those were just humans without magic or anything else altering them, but ugh, it always sounded like such an insult. "Thanks."

"Don't be like that. You know what I mean, Gladiolus."

"Gladio."

"Hm?"

"You should call me Gladio. I'm not a kid to scold anymore, you know."

Ignis stopped for a second his head tilted and lips twisted downward in a frown. Gladio worried that he'd offended the man, but then he straightened up, and those lips that he tried very hard to not think about kissing smiled again. "No. I suppose you aren't. Gladio it is." Ten minutes ago, Ignis'd had him flat on his back in the gym, but he felt like he'd just won a great victory.

* * *

Eventually, Gladio started to improve, and Ignis had him choose a weapon, and then proceed to start lessons with Cor, who wielded a similar weapon. Unlike Ignis, Gladio found, Cor didn't believe in holding back for the sake of a learning curve, and it landed him with a tone of scrapes, bruises, and small cuts that hurt his body and his pride, but it was somehow worth it when he went back to Ignis for book club and Ignis insisted on seeing them.

"Cor and I are going to have to have a talk about not using you like a battering ram." Nimble fingers skittered up his arm, checking and thumbing each small wound, and Gladio did his absolute best to keep his body's reactions under control. Those warm fingers meant nothing. He couldn't let them do anything. It was difficult. He was almost twenty-one, and the feelings he'd had for Ignis at eighteen had only deepened. "I think he sometimes forgets that humans don't heal like werewolves." He sighed, one of those deep sighs that seemed exaggerated. The kind of sigh he usually reserved for Noctis. "Sit."

That was a command, Gladio knew. A command coming from a dominant werewolf to someone he considered under his care. So he sat, and didn't ask what Ignis was doing when he left the room and returned with a small tin. "Let me know if I'm doing it too hard." The tin was placed on the table, and when he opened it something minty and medicinal smelling wafted up. "A salve," Ignis explained as he dipped his fingers into it. "I usually reserve it for Noctis, but..." His voice drifted off as he began to rub it into the bigger cuts and bruises on his arms. It stung a little, but Ignis' fingers felt good rubbing it in and not just because they were Ignis' fingers. He'd done things like this before.

"Why would Noct need a salve?"

"His back," Ignis explained softly, as though that really answered anything at all

"What's wrong with his back?" Noctis was a werewolf after all, and he knew they could literally regrow limbs if they were cut off. A back injury, even one that severed the spinal cord ought to only keep a werewolf down for a couple of weeks or so.

"...Perhaps that's a question you ought to ask him. It's rather personal."

Curiosity nagged at him, but he nodded. "Okay."

An awkward silence stretched between them, or perhaps it was just awkward to Gladio, who was trying to think about anything but the fact that the man he was in love with was feeling up his arms...even if it wasn't really feeling up in that way. Ignis had almost gotten to the worst bruise that lay on his left shoulder when he couldn't take it anymore, and he opened his mouth to fill the void with something, "How would you feel if I got a tattoo?"

Ignis stopped for an instant, and Gladio internally sighed in relief. It was enough. "A tattoo? At your age?"

"Ignis. I'll be twenty-one next month." Should he be frustrated? Or embarrassed? Or both? Gladio was leaning toward both.

Gaping silence followed, and when Ignis did finally speak, his voice was unnaturally high. "Will you really?"

"Yeah."

"That's..." It wasn't often that Ignis was speechless, and Gladio allowed himself to enjoy it for a second, while he found his words again. "Wonderful. You'll be full grown. In that case, you do whatever you like."

"Sure, I plan to, but what would you think of it?"'

"I don't know." Fingers returned to his shoulder, and Gladio bit his lip to hold back a sound. Shit. He should tell him to stop, but dammit he didn't want to. "I've never found them appealing for myself, but I've never judged others for it. What kind of tattoo would you get?"

"Not sure yet. I'll let you know."

"I look forward to your ideas." Gladio watched as those fingers grasped the lid of the tin and secured it firmly. "Now, change of subject: What would you like for your birthday?"

 _A kiss from you._ "One of your birthday cakes with that meringue frosting sounds amazing."

Ignis chuckled. "Consider it done."

* * *

Gladio had the outline of feathers tattooed on his arms by the time his twenty-first birthday rolled around. His buddies from class convinced him to come out and drink, and Noctis managed to drag himself out of bed long enough to tag along. More and more lately, Noctis was tired, but his friend insisted that they needed a designated driver who definitely wouldn't be getting drunk. Gladio hated feeling like he was leaving Noctis out, but the werewolf played lazy pool and darts, and grinned easily with his friends. At least, he did until about one in the morning.

"You're _done_."

" ' sss fine."

"No. Not fine. Fine was five shots ago. You're _hammered_. I should have stopped you at sloshed three shots ago." The shot glass was forcibly removed from his hand, and Gladio remembered watching Noctis knocking it back like a pro before slamming his hand and the shot glass on the counter top. "I'm paying the birthday boy's tab!"

Gladio honestly didn't really remember much after that, bits and pieces of a drive under street lights, and the loud obnoxious pounding of Noctis knocking on a door. He remembered in and outs of a conversation. "Take care of him, you know I'm shit at this sort of thing." - "Is he going to be all right?" - "He'll live, Noct. He'll just wish he hadn't in the morning." Someone picked him up. Strong, warm arms sat him on a softer surface. Then the nausea hit, and he was on the floor of an immaculate bathroom with fingers running through his hair and soft words he wouldn't remember in his ear.

"Go ahead. You're all right. You're going to be all right."

"You sound like the man I love," he remembered saying in moments when he wasn't retching his guts out.

"Do I now?"

"Yeah. E's wonderful. Kind. Selfless. Handsome. Strong. Talented. I could go on forever."

"He sounds lovely."

" 'E is. You'd like im."

"You'll have to introduce me."

"Mebbe in the morning."

"Perhaps." Those fingers continued to gently stroke his hair, and Gladio almost fell asleep, until the nausea hit again.

When morning finally came and Gladio woke up with the worst headache he thought anyone in the history of ever had gotten, he was in Ignis' bed. He remember it from those years ago when Ignis had given it up for him and Iris. If that weren't proof enough, it also smelled like him, that faint, clean smell he'd gotten used to. Noctis and brought him to Ignis' house...and he'd told Ignis about the man he loved...who was Ignis. He groaned, knowing that this was how he'd die. The alcohol hadn't killed him, no, he'd survived to die here. Of embarrassment. Or at Ignis' hand. One of the two.

The door opened and, of course, it was Ignis who came in, holding a glass of water and a bottle of pills. "I'd ask how you feel, but your face says everything I need to know. Here," the bottle was proffered first, followed by the water, "Drink all of it. I'll have breakfast for you in a few."

"Thanks, Iggy."

"Iggy?" A perfectly groomed eyebrow shot up.

"Yeah," Gladio's cheeks felt like they were glowing like hot coals. "Noct calls you Specs. I gotta have my own nickname, right?" Ignis snorted at him. "Bad idea?"

"No. Believe it or not, my uncle used to call me Iggy. I'd just...forgotten, I suppose. I'll allow it." Ignis spared him a smile, that Gladio found he couldn't even enjoy, and turned to leave again.

"Hey, Iggy?"

"Hm?"

Gladio twisted the blanket between his hands nervously, "Did I say anything...weird last night?"

"Not really," Ignis said softly, "You kvetched about your nausea. You told me how tired you were. You told me it was your birthday...Ah, but you did mention one thing you probably didn't want me to know about."

Yeah. Here it was. "What was it?"

"You told me the sweetest things about your crush. It was quite adorable actually. Don't worry, you didn't name names, so I shan't be running off to tell him how you feel."

Even through the thud-thud of his headache and the racing of his heart, Gladio found it within himself to be surprised. "You didn't...guess who it was?"

"Gladio, I am but a small part of your life. I daresay you scarcely consider me a friend, more a friend of a friend than anything else. I would never presume to know who you've given your heart to."

Gladio's breath stuck in his throat.

Ignis hadn't just not guessed that he was his crush, but he didn't even think he was important in his life? How could that possibly be? Ignis had given him his love of books, his major, he'd trained him in self defense, and pointed him in the right direction for his weapon. He'd helped get him off the path that would have led him to jail in high school. Gladio loved him, adored him, yet Ignis thought he was only a small part of his life. "You're one of my best friends, Iggy."

"Come now, don't say that just--"

"I mean it! You and Noct are my best friends. I have friends at school and stuff, but you and Noct are the real deal. You're both a huge part of my life."

Ignis stopped for a minute, the air between them totally still and silent, and Gladio worried that somehow Ignis would find a lie in his words. Eventually though, Ignis started to smile, and when he spoke it was the gentlest and most affectionate tone Gladio had ever heard. His breath stuck in his throat all over again. "Thank you. You don't know what it means to me for you to say that." He left the room then, returning only when Gladio finally felt like he could breathe again carrying what Ignis called breakfast: Mac and cheese and the cake he'd been promised for his birthday.

Despite the hangover, Gladio would remember it as one of the best mornings he'd had.

* * *

He didn't go out drinking for his twenty-second birthday. Instead Noct came over the night before and they watched about five Disney movies, (none of them The Little Mermaid) ate Cup Noodles, and fell asleep on the couch with Noctis curled into his side as he was wont to do. The next morning, Gladio had barely managed to disengage himself from Noct's octopus arms when there was a knock at the door, and there was Ignis, bearing fresh baked cinnamon rolls and a long package that was almost as tall as he was. "Happy birthday, Gladio."

His heart melted. It always did these days when he saw that smile on his face. It was becoming more common, a smile that actually carried to his eyes. He wanted to make it last forever. "Thanks, Iggy. Come on in."

"Is Noctis awake?" He answered his own question by peering out into the living room and sighing. "Of course not. I'll wake him."

Twenty minutes and a miracle only Ignis could work later, Noctis was awake, eating a cinnamon roll, and heading out the door. "We still on for dinner?"

"Yeah."

"Cool. See you at six."

"See you," Gladio grinned as sticky fingers waved lethargically before Noctis actually made his way out the door, and Gladio was left alone with Ignis. His heart pounded in his chest. Today. He was going to do it today. He was going to tell Ignis how he felt and he was going to ask him on a date. He was old enough. Now he just had to work up the courage to actually do it.

"Is something wrong?" Ignis asked, eyebrows furrowed when he turned around. "You look pale. Are you ill?"

"No," Gladio forced out a laugh. "It's still early. Let me eat a cinnamon roll and I'll feel better."

They ate all the remaining cinnamon rolls, Ignis made heavenly coffee, and everything felt perfect between them. They were quiet, but it was soft and comfortable, and Gladio wanted every morning to be like this. Eating breakfast together, in the same space, in the early hours of the morning. _Domestic_. That was the word. He loved this feeling that they could be domestic together.

"Here," Ignis said when the last of the coffee was poured. "Why don't you open your gift?" He picked it up from where it leaned against the wall and offered it to him. Ignis had made it seem light, but it wasn't in his hands. It had a fair amount of weight, and Gladio began to suspect what it might be, a thought that was only encouraged by, "Cor helped me pick it out."

As he thought, it was a sword, masterfully crafted, if not ornate, the exact size he'd been using when he trained with Cor every week. His own sword, not one of Cor's collection. Truly a gift. "I know it's not a traditional birthday gift, but do you like it?"

"I love it," and he did, "But it's not what I really want from you."

"No?" Gladio had gotten good at being able to tell when Ignis was panicking on the inside. He was doing it right now. "Then what is?"

He took in a deep breath. He could do this. He just had to...spit it out. "Do...you remember when we first met? When I was twelve?"

Ignis' eyebrows furrowed together again. "Ah, you mean the first time you bothered to notice that I existed? Yes, I remember." Ouch. That hurt a little, but it was probably true, Gladio knew. He hadn't paid a lot of attention to many of the people in his father's pack back then. It was very possible that they'd known each other, it was even possible that they'd been formally introduced, and Gladio had just pushed it aside in his head. If so, he'd been a fool, just as he'd been a fool to consider Ignis a silent enemy for four years.

He breathed in deeply again. "Back then, you told me that if I came to you in ten years and asked you to treat me like an adult, you would. Was that true?"

That. That surprised Ignis. Gladio saw it in the way he blinked. "I..." he stopped, and bit his lip (adorable) before changing the course of his words. "Of course it was. Have I still been treating you like a child? If so, I apologize--"

Gladio shook his head. His heart was pounding so loudly in his chest that he was surprised Ignis couldn't hear it. "You've been wonderful. No. You _are_ wonderful. I just -- I want more."

"More? Explain."

Spit it out. _Spit it out!_ "I want to be your boyfriend." There. That was the hardest part. He could just go from there. He couldn't possibly make it worse, right? "And I want you to be mine in return. I've...been in love with you for years. Remember when I was drunk last birthday and I was talking about the guy I love? That was _you_. I was talking about you."

Gladio couldn't read Ignis' face at this point. It was completely blank and he hated it. He hated not knowing if this was good or bad, if he should press forward or stop. After what felt like an eternity of single seconds, Ignis spoke. "Why did you wait?"

"Huh?"

"You said you've felt like this for years. Why did you wait?"

"Noct told me to. Said I was too young for you."

Ignis' next words were a whisper. "Noctis was smart to say so." Both of them nearly jumped out of their chairs when the phone in Ignis' pocket rang, and Gladio felt like something between them shattered as Ignis dug it out and flipped it open, his long legs walking quickly out of the room as he did so. "Yes, Regis?"

If this hadn't been his own kitchen, his own place, Gladio would have felt the need to leave, but as it was he felt like he was glued to his chair as he listened to Ignis talk very quickly in the other room. He didn't catch all of it. Something about Lestallum, and nighttime, and...he couldn't string anything else together, it was too quiet, too scattered. After a little while he heard the phone snap shut and Ignis reappeared. He didn't look angry. Gladio supposed that was a good sign. Maybe.

"I..." Ignis glanced between him and the phone, and then back again. "I'm sorry, but I have to leave."

Gladio's heart sank. "Lestallum, right?"

"Yes," Ignis gave a half smile and Gladio looked away, his heart unable to take it, "You have pretty good hearing for a human," a tease. Gladio thought that was meant to be a tease. "There's something going on out there, and Regis wants me to look into it. It'll be a few days."

"Okay."

"It'll give you time to plan our date."

What? A flurry of emotions he couldn't entirely pinpoint swirled in his chest. Excitement, hope, confusion, the list went on. "I thought you said I was too young."

"You _were_. I don't know how old you were when Noctis told you to wait, but he was right to do so then. You're old enough now, and if you want me even half as much as I want you...I see no reason for us to not."

Half as much. Ignis had just said he wanted him. He'd implied he wanted him a lot. There was a numb sort of feeling in his gut. Shock, Gladio supposed. Ignis liked him. There was a part of him that thought he was dreaming. "You're shaking," fingers brushed against his face, and he jerked back to reality. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," Gladio laughed, hearing the shake in his own voice. "I just can't believe you're okay with this."

Ignis smiled, his thumb stroking Gladio's cheek. "More than okay. I cannot describe to you how envious I was of that man you spoke of last year. It was wrong of me, I knew, but I was so very envious."

"Surprise," Gladio teased, "That man was you."

Ignis hummed back in his throat, a happy sound, Gladio thought. "I should get going," his hand began to pull back, but, feeling bold, Gladio reached out and grabbed his wrist.

"Can I have one more gift to make my birthday perfect?"

At that, Ignis laughed, not the quiet chuckle that Gladio was used to, but a full on laugh that made his entire body tingle from his head to his toes, before Ignis threaded his fingers up into his hair and gave him exactly what he wanted.

His lips were soft and still tasted like cinnamon rolls and coffee. His smile against Gladio's mouth felt like sunshine on a spring day, and sure, his thoughts were overly romantic and childish, but that didn't stop him from moaning as Ignis tugged sharply at his hair, and that mouth trailed down to his exposed collarbone, nipping at the skin there, hard enough to feel, but not hard enough to mark.

"A taste," Ignis said, smirking down at him as he pulled away, "Of what you can have when I get back."

"Promise?" He panted out, his hands wanting nothing more than to chase after him, to pull him back down to him, to not stop. To never stop. He couldn't though. Ignis had to go. His alpha had called for him to do something, so he had to go.

His boyfriend (boyfriend!) nodded. "I promise. You can have that and more when I return. It shouldn't be more than three days. Can you wait three days?"

"Yeah," he licked his lips, and it thrilled him to realize that Ignis' green eyes followed the motion. "I can wait three days."

* * *

Three days later it was Noctis who called him, not Ignis. "Hey. Don't panic, Ignis is gonna live."

"The moment anyone says 'don't panic,' is the moment they start panicking, Noct. What happened?" Sure enough, his heart pounded in his chest, he started shaking, his mind reeling. He was going to live, Noctis said, but that meant he was in bad shape. What if he was wrong? What if he died?

"It was a seethe. You know. Of vampires. According to Ignis, they were taking people for like a living blood bank. He couldn't wait for backup, and he put a stop to it, but...it's pretty bad. If he were human, he'd be dead."

"How am I supposed to not panic over that, Noct?! You know how I feel about him!"

"I know! He...knows too, doesn't he? He accepted you as his."

Gladio nodded into the phone, even though he knew Noctis couldn't see it. "Did he tell you?"

"Not _really_ , but he's asking for you. He wouldn't be asking for you if you weren't fucking."

Gladio hid his face in his free hand. Leave it to Noct to be brutally honest and not hold back. "We're not having sex."

"No?"

"No." Gladio sighed. "We haven't even gone out on a date yet."

Noctis paused, and then he snorted. "You are the biggest romantic sap ever. I love it. Fine. Not fucking. Kissing? Are you kissing?"

"...Yeah. We've kissed."

"Cool. He's asking for you cause you've kissed, and he wants you here to comfort him in his pain. Which is big and important and you should feel honored. So. Are you coming?"

"I'll be there as fast as I can." If he were being totally honest, Gladio didn't think the gods themselves could keep him away.

When he arrived at Ignis' house, Noctis greeted him with a tight hug around his waist. "Specs is up in his room," the smaller man mumbled into his chest, his arms slowly tightening around his waist. "I brought up the television so you guys can watch movies, and he needs to eat a lot, so like...pizza and shit. Don't let him cook. I gotta go do some stuff, but I'll be back at five to check in, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." He ruffled Noct's hair, and he felt him smile against his chest before pulling back.

"It looks bad, but I promise he's gonna be okay. Seriously. Don't panic."

"And seriously, saying 'don't panic' never makes anyone not panic." That earned him a playful shove before Noctis headed on out the door, and Gladio headed on up the stairs. Sure enough, inside Ignis' bedroom was the television and a selection of movies that Noct had probably picked out himself. Ignis was in bed, the covers drawn up so high that he could only see the tips of his hair against the pillow. His glasses lay on the bedside table.

When he moved to close the door, the blankets moved slightly and Ignis sat up. He did look bad. One side of his face was entirely mottled black and blue, and Gladio suspected that the trend continued down the rest of his body underneath the clothing and covers. There didn't seem to be a lot of swelling, but it had probably already faded. Had there been gunshot wounds? Stab wounds? Were they still there somewhere he couldn't see them? "You came."

Gladio's heart broke in his chest. He swore he could hear the cracking. Ignis was always self assured, always put together even when he was surprised or hurt, but those two words were spoken with such vulnerability and disbelief. As though he wouldn't have come. "Of course I did. Are you all right?"

"I will be tomorrow, or the next day."

"Noct says it was vampires. Did they bite you?"

Ignis began to shake his head, but then stopped as though it was too much effort or pain to do it. It probably was. "No, not that it matters anyway. I look like this, but they look like dust."

"So that's what victory looks like."

"More often than not. Not that glamorous, is it?"

"Doesn't matter. You're here. I'm glad you're here." His words earned him a tired smile, and Ignis lowered himself back down, internally, Gladio winced. That looked painful. "Do you need anything?"

"You're here," Ignis echoed his words, as he seemed to simply try and curl into himself. "I don't need _anything_ else."

Before, Gladio's heart had broken, and now it had melted. He put in a movie, _Dragonheart_ , whatever that was, ("Noct likes that one a lot. I promise you'll be crying by the end.") and ended up crawling into bed with Ignis. At first Ignis had protested, but before long he was no longer curling into himself and was curling into Gladio's side, arms and legs as needy as Noctis was on his worst days. Gladio chuckled when Ignis finally settled his head on his shoulder, face pressed against it like it was all that kept him alive. "You're secretly a cuddle-monster, aren't you?"

Ignis had jabbed his side with a finger, a growl escaping his lips as he threatened, "If you tell anyone, I will teach you the true meaning of defenestration."

Ignis slept on and off, and Gladio eventually began to slip in and out of sleep with him, only getting up for food, bathroom, and to change the movie in the player. It was the laziest, but also best day he'd had in a very long time.

When Noctis returned to check in on them, Ignis already looked better, the dark black and purple mottling quickly beginning to fade to more green and blue. He'd been right, by morning, Gladio suspected he'd look more or less normal, but he couldn't help but want him to rest more the next day, so that he could be fully better. A human would have needed weeks to recover from just the bruising. Couldn't a werewolf at least take two days?

"I brought more food." Noctis unpacked popcorn, pizza rolls (Gladio could practically feel Ignis glaring at the things behind him), potato chips, oreos, and ("Just for you, Specs,") baby carrots.

"Thank you, Noct."

"How you feeling?"

"Better."

"Good," Noctis nodded firmly. "Dad says don't bother coming back until Friday."

"Friday is three days away."

Gladio watched as a rather vicious grin overtook Noct's face. It wasn't an expression he was sure he wanted to ever be aimed at him. It was an expression that probably usually ended in blood or fire. "Enjoy your vacation."

"Ugh." Gladio bit his lip as he tried not to laugh at that reaction. Who reacted like that to getting a vacation?! "Talk some sense into your father, Noctis."

"Nah. If I try, he'll just call and make it an order. Might even extend it to Monday. Then you'll really be stuck." He laughed as Ignis made some sort of unhappy expression behind him, and then sat up and took the carrots to eat. Gladio bit back another laugh. He actually took the carrots first. It was stupid, and silly, and he loved it. "I'll call tomorrow to make sure you're still resting. And Gladio?"

"Yeah?"

"Specs gets bored easily. Try to keep him _busy_ , okay?" Noct gave him the most obvious wink ever, and walked away before Gladio's face even got red, which it did. It got very red. It was a near thing that he didn't sputter and yell.

"You get used to him being like that," Ignis mumbled next to him, "He says things like that every time anyone in the pack gets a new significant other. It's part of how he shows that he cares."

"It's still embarrassing." Ignis didn't argue with that.

By lunchtime the next day, the bruising was gone, but Ignis said he was still sore, and he ended up staying in bed most of the day anyway, just the same. Gladio stayed too, until about three o'clock when they finally ran out of movies to watch and Gladio went out to get both more movies and more pizza. When he returned, arms laden with ten more movies and three pizzas, Ignis was gone from the bed, and he could hear the shower from behind the bathroom door. "You okay?" He asked, knocking. There was no answer, and he tried again, with no more success.

On the third try he went inside. The door wasn't locked, and he saw that inside the frosted glass of the shower, Ignis' figure was not standing. "Ignis!" A thousand thoughts ran through his mind as he pulled back the glass, that there'd been internal bleeding that hadn't healed, that he'd had an aneurysm, he'd slipped, fallen, cracked his head open on the tile--

What he found instead was a very startled man, with green eyes wide open peering up at him from the corner, where he seemed to have settled all on his own. "What is it?! Did something happen?!"

Gladio gaped his mind falling silent except for one single thought. "Were you asleep?"

Pale cheeks tinged pink. "...Yes?" He coughed awkwardly, folding himself into a more modest position that reminded Gladio that Ignis was indeed naked. As he would be. When he was taking a shower. "I just wanted to wash my hair, but it was very warm, and I must not be fully healed yet. How long have I been in here?"

The answer was not long enough for the water to be cold, which Gladio took as a good sign, but, uh... "I'll...go back...to the bedroom...and wait for you."

"You could _stay_."

The entirety of Gladio's body seemed to overheat at once. He knew that Ignis wasn't just inviting him to stay in the room, or to take a shower with him. No. That was invitation for sex. Soft and subtle, just the way he would imagine that Ignis would ask. His body wanted to say yes, oh how it wanted to say yes, especially seeing Ignis completely without clothes, right there in arm's reach. Yet - "I shouldn't. You're not fully recovered yet, and we still haven't even gone on a proper date, and you fell asleep in the shower, and--"

"Gladio."

"Yes?"

Ignis huffed, small, irked, yet somehow fond. "Do you want me?"

"Yes." Oh gods yes. He couldn't describe how much he wanted him. He couldn't describe how much seeing him bruised and vulnerable had only made him love and want Ignis more. There was no other answer. "I want you."

"Then stay."

Gladio wasn't a werewolf, and he didn't think Ignis' words were meant to be an order, but for quickly he undressed and closed the glass door behind him, they might as well have been.

* * *

For almost two years, Gladio was almost wholly happy with his relationship.

They did argue, it was unavoidable to be honest, especially, with Ignis being such a dominant werewolf who was used to not getting argument from anyone below his position in the pack. Arguing about whatever it was that month usually ended with Ignis trying to give him an order, (It was usually him just telling to stop arguing with him.) and in return Gladio telling him to stop treating him like a packmate. Arguing was never fun, especially with someone of Ignis' age and intelligence, but the pattern actually became predictable enough that it was _almost_ amusing to watch Ignis' face when they got to that point. It was like he'd been struck, and then he got mad at himself, and he took a walk. Gladio would take a walk too, in the opposite direction, and when they came back, they could talk again. Calmly. Talking calmly was always better.

The rest of the time was much better than that. It felt like he found something new about his boyfriend every day, and it was always something to love. He loved the way Ignis sent him flowers every week, loved the way that he eventually figured out there was a message hidden in each bouquet, because Ignis had been young when "floriography" had been popular. He loved how Ignis actually hated sleeping alone, and loved how relaxed and innocent he looked on those rare occasions when he woke up before him. He loved the way Ignis tapped his pen and bit his lip when he was concentrating on something. He loved getting a call every day just asking how he was. Even if the call was just that, "Are you all right today?" before he had to move onto something else. Ignis made sure to call.

The thing Gladio loved most of all was his laugh. Not the chuckle he gave when he was mildly amused or the snort he gave when someone groaned at one of his puns. He had another laugh so rarely heard that Gladio wasn't sure even Noctis knew it existed. It was full, loud, and it made the edges of his eyes crinkle, transforming him from a werewolf more than a century old into the twenty-something he looked. The first time he'd truly heard it, they'd been in his buttery yellow kitchen, waiting for something or another to boil. Gladio would never recall precisely what he said, but the laugh had blown him away, and Ignis' face had been impossible not to kiss. The stove had needed to be turned off as kissing had become something else. That laugh, it was Ignis' best feature. Even his beautiful green eyes couldn't compare.

For all the good things about the relationship he had with Ignis though, Gladio started to notice problems. Things he couldn't ignore, no matter how hard he tried.

" _Again_ , Iggy?"

"Yes, again." Ignis sighed, his fingers pushing up his glasses to pinch at the bridge of his nose. "My apologies. I know this is important to you, but something's come up."

"It's my graduation!"

"I'm aware, and I very much want to be there. _Noctis_ very much wants to be there, but we have our orders."

"So that's it, you and Noct are going off to Insomnia for a week, and you're going to miss my graduation."

"You know I can't disobey an order from Regis. No matter how I might want to."

"You have free will!"

He watched Ignis' eyes close, his eyebrows knit in something between pain and frustration. "You're thinking like a _human_ , Gladio. You're thinking like _I'm_ human. I'm not human. I don't have free will. Not about this." Silence stretched between them, and eventually Ignis crossed the distance between them, nimble fingers reaching up to pull his face down, and he kissed his cheek. "I will do my best to make it up to you when we return. Truly. I love you."

The problem wasn't just that no amount of flowers that secretly whispered apologies and congratulations, no amount of cake perfectly baked, and no amount of sex made up for the fact that he wasn't there that day. It went far beyond his absence and into the _who_ he was absent with. Noctis.

Noctis was his best friend, and had been since he was a teenager, but he and Ignis had known each other far longer, and, in many ways, were much closer. If you asked Ignis, you would get that sort of chuckle-laugh he did and he'd tell you that he was, and always had been, Noct's long term nanny. It was an amusing answer, but it was also a bullshit answer. Perhaps when Noct had been a child that was true, Regis was busy, he'd needed someone he trusted to oversee Noctis' care, and Ignis had been it, but Noctis hadn't been a _child_ in a very long time. They were friends now, more than that even. There was a side of Ignis that Gladio knew only Noctis knew, and vise versa. You rarely saw one without the other, and despite himself Gladio had started to hate it.

More than once Gladio had come into Noctis' apartments at the den to find Noct and Ignis absurdly close together, only for them to instantly pull apart when they realized he was coming in. They talked in hushed whispers, and Ignis would smile his best smiles, and Noctis was...very touchy. Logic said that _all_ werewolves were touchy, so of course Noctis was _extra_ touchy, but the more and more it went on, the more and more it irked Gladio. Ignis was his boyfriend, and Noctis needed to back off a bit.

When he'd confronted Noctis, Gladio suddenly saw a side of his friend he'd never seen. "You back the fuck off, Gladio. I'm his friend and his packmate! I'm not going to stop touching him because you're dealing with stupid human jealousy! He loves _you_!" If Gladio had been smart, he would have realized that lazy, tired, hurting Noctis never truly yelled. If he'd been smart, he would have realized that he was crossing a line.

He wasn't smart. "And you're in love with him!" It wasn't something anyone ever really said, but Gladio was almost positive that the only person who didn't know it was Ignis himself. Gladio himself had known it all the way when he'd been eighteen. Noctis loved Ignis. Back then, it hadn't mattered to him, after all, he'd also known that Noctis was asexual. Back then, he'd thought that made it insignificant. He'd even sort of thought it was cute, like a puppy love that would fade with time. He was a bit older now though, and he knew better. The desire for sex wasn't important to strength of the feelings. What Noctis felt wasn't a crush, and it wasn't puppy love. It was true romantic affection, long, lasting, and true.

Years later, when he looked back at it, he realized that he'd been afraid, not just of Noctis taking Ignis away, but of the fact that those feelings had existed before he'd been born, and the fact that they'd last long after he was dead.

Noct's face had changed when he'd been accused. Gone was the furious anger, and in came something quiet, and yet infinitely more terrifying. "And if you want to live your nice long human life with Specs you will never say that again. Ever. My feelings about him don't matter to you two. They are mine to deal with. Think about it. If I were going to pursue him, I'd have done it. Decades ago. If he were interested in me, he would have said so. He didn't. He chose you, Gladio, and if you don't think that's a big deal, if you don't realize how special that is, then..." Noctis shook his head. "Then you're hopeless, and no one can help you."

* * *

Noctis warned him, but Gladio didn't listen. He continued down the rabbit hole until he found yet another problem, the one that would become the final nail in the coffin.

"Why don't we live together?"

"Hm?" The hum was soft and lazy, and it gave away the fact that Ignis had been half asleep against his shoulder while they were reading. A thrum of affection filled his chest as Ignis made to pry himself off into an upright position. Ignis was adorable when he was in that spot between awake and asleep, not quiet balanced, and wibbly wobbly. "What was the question?"

"Why don't we live together? Officially, I mean. I'm here eighty percent of the time anyway, I sleep here, I eat here, I watch television here, so why haven't I just moved all my things in and stay?"

"Hm." The hum again, but this time it was less adorable and almost irksome as Ignis pressed his hands against his face and tried to wake himself up. "That would be your father."

That hadn't even been remotely close to the answer Gladio had been expecting. He'd expected something more like 'We never discussed it before,' or 'I didn't know that was what you wanted.' Instead the answer was his father. "What does Dad have to do with it?"

"He's strictly forbidden it."

"Forbidden? Like you've been ordered to not have me move in?"

Ignis nodded, his attempts at waking up clearly failing as he began to list to one side. "Don't worry about it, Gladio, I'm going to take care of the problem soon."

Gladio decided to take care of the problem first. He stormed straight into the den, and right in on his father and Regis looking at something on the computer, and Regis, looking very much like his son in that moment had taken one glance between the two of them and coughed awkwardly. "I think I will leave the two of you alone. Come retrieve me when you're ready to proceed."

"Of course." Regis had walked past him them, posture as straight as Noct's was slouched. His father shut off the monitor and laced his fingers together on the table. "What's troubling you, Gladio?"

"Why can't I move in with Ignis? Why do you have any say in that? Do you disapprove of him? If so you've never said anything!"

"Relax, Gladio."

"It's kinda hard to relax when my father is ordering my boyfriend to not do the things he wants to do!"

"He asked me, Gladio. He asked if I would be all right with it. I told him I wasn't, and I wouldn't be, until you were tied. I don't care that you sleep with him, or anything else that you do with him- except this. I won't have it until you're tied together."

"Tied? Like what? Like mated? You won't let him let me live with him unless we're mated?!" Gladio pressed his hands against his face trying to control himself, trying to not give into the anger that rolled deep inside him. "I love him, Dad. I want to be with him."

"Love is not enough to sustain a long term relationship. I won't stand for you to move in, and then move back out three months later. You must be tied. Or it must not be at all. He's aware of the issue, and if he wants to resolve it. He will. Give it some time."

Naturally, Gladio gave it no time at all.

"I talked to my father today."

The amount of slowness Ignis used to lower his can of Ebony was not lost on Gladio. "And what did he tell you?" The caution in his voice wasn't lost on Gladio either.

"He told me that if I wanted to live with you, we had to be tied - mated." Mated was such a heavy word, it was probably the heaviest, yet most important word Gladio knew werewolves to use. His mother and father had been a human-werewolf mated couple. It hadn't meant that his mother was part of the pack, but it had been the next best thing. He knew the bond between mated pairs was intense, and it showed an intense amount of trust, need, and love. He knew it was a level of intimacy he knew they didn't have. "Were you ever going to ask me to be your mate?" He knew the answer before the words were even gone from his lips. He could see it in the way Ignis' eyes closed, a look of defeat spread across his features.

Seconds slipped by and Ignis said nothing, he just sat there calculating exactly how to say it, how he could possibly say it so that it wouldn't ruin what they had. It was already ruined. He was only delaying the inevitable. "Just say it. Yes or no."

"No. But--"

"No. No buts. Don't try to talk yourself out of it, Ignis. We're done." He turned before he could even hear Ignis pushing his chair back to get up out of it. He was opening the door before Ignis even spoke.

"Gladio! If you would just--"

"We're done!" He slammed the door shut. The summertime wreath Ignis had hanging from it fell to the ground, and Gladio left it there.

* * *

It was two weeks before Gladio saw Ignis again. It wasn't for a lack of Ignis trying. He had calls, texts, emails, there'd even been a letter. Gladio had burned the letter without even opening it. Noctis too had tried to contact him with no luck. Gladio wasn't having it. He'd made his decision. Ignis hadn't even considered asking for the thing his father wanted, and Ignis hadn't considered even telling him about it until he'd directly asked. He knew he'd made the right choice.

With that in mind, when he happened to see both Noctis and Ignis walking down the sidewalk in town, and he watched Ignis stop dead in his tracks for a second, just a second, before trying to excuse himself from Noctis' and walk toward him, Gladio crossed the street and began to walk in the opposite direction. He didn't even think about it. He didn't want to see him, didn't want to talk to him, he just wanted to be done. He didn't want to deal with it anymore.

"Hey!" Hands shoved against his shoulder so hard that Gladio almost tumbled to the sidewalk, and when he turned, there was Noctis, alone and looking very pissed off. "You don't have to be such a dick you know! You don't love him anymore! Got it! Acting like he never mattered at all?! Not okay!"

"Why should I?! He lied! And he made it perfectly clear that I'm not good enough for him!"

Noctis was shaking his head angrily, each shake becoming more and more furious. "You are such an ignorant asshole for someone who grew up around the pack! Who he's able to mate isn't up to him! The wolf decides! You and the wolf inside aren't the same person! You don't always agree! Ignis asked the wolf and it said no! That rejection has nothing to do with his love for you! You just got so stuck on that one word you didn't see what the real solution was!"

Noctis' arm flung out and Gladio braced himself to be punched, but it didn't come. Instead, when he looked Noctis held out a small box in his hand. "Take it. You don't deserve it, but he wants you to have it." Noctis wasn't looking at his face now, his eyes lowered to the ground, and when Gladio plucked the box from his hand, Noctis shoved both his hands in his pocket.

It was an old box, well cared for, but old. All the same, it was obvious what kind of box it was, and when he opened it with a sinking heart, he found exactly what he expected. "An engagement ring."

"That's right. There's more than one way to "tie" yourself to someone. He made that, back when he was human. He was our silversmith back then. You should, uh, look up his name on E-Bay. Some of his work sells for a lot of money, but he kept that one for himself. For, you know, someone special. _You_. He took it out and had it resized for _you_. We had it all planned. I was gonna take you fishing next weekend, but then I'd get called away by dad for some shit, and so he'd huff and take you camping instead...you were gonna find the box among the marshmallows for s'mores."

When Gladio tore his eyes away from the the ring he found that Noctis was crying, the tears streaming silently down his face. "He was _so_ excited. Excited to give you that ring. Excited to marry you. Excited to spend the rest of your stupid life with you. And now he's broken. We all sense it. He's never going to recover. He'll just learn to deal with the fact that you didn't trust him. That was your last chance, just now. You'd had a couple weeks to think, we didn't plan it, just happened to run into you, but you wouldn't even stay on the same side of the _street_. He's done, and that's not his fault. It's _yours_."

Noctis sniffed, the heel of one hand wiping away the tears that were still falling. "He doesn't want the ring back. It's yours. He says you can sell it. A parting gift, for your trouble."

"I suppose you're officially done with me too."

"No. Unlike you, I don't throw away the people I love so easily. I'm pissed at you, but I'll get over it. Call me in a couple months when Ignis has worked himself back into a workable facade."

* * *

Gladio didn't call Noctis a couple months later. In fact, it was a year before he saw either of them again, and the reunion wasn't a happy one.

He woke to find Ignis sitting in a chair beside him when he woke, a mug to his lips, a laptop on his lap, and his eyebrows furrowed. "What are you doing here?" He asked before his brain caught up with the rest him and told him that talking was a terrible idea. His entire being, especially his head exploded in a fit of excruciating pain, and Gladio watched, mostly helpless as Ignis reached behind his head and fiddled with a tube on the medical equipment he'd conveniently failed to notice before. Almost immediately the pain began to recede and he felt like he could breathe again.

"I suppose this means I don't have to ask how you feel," Ignis said with a sigh, closing the laptop with a snap. "So I'll begin by asking you what the last thing you remember is."

It was a surprisingly hard question to answer. Gladio had to wrack his brains to come up with the thing that seemed to be where his memories stopped. "I was at a bar. I think I was on my third shot of tequila."

"Hm," Ignis hummed disapprovingly, "You're missing seven shots and a bar brawl. According to your records, your fourth drunken bar brawl this month."

"I didn't end up in the hospital those other times."

"Ah. Yes. Well." Ignis closed his eyes and sighed. "As they say, "You should see the other guy." "

That, even through his medicated and pain induced fog, made Gladio perk up, and his heart sink. "How bad?"

"I'm not privy to exact details, you understand, but last I heard he was at least out of surgery and in stable condition." Yeah. That was bad. That was really bad.  Gladio swallowed and found his mouth to be bone dry, but he didn't bother to ask for water. He didn't deserve it. "I've been informed that no charges will be pressed, if only because your father has already promised to cover all the medical and out of pocket expenses. You're a lucky man."

"I don't feel lucky."

A soft smile curled around Ignis' lips, but it wasn't real. Gladio knew it wasn't real. Workable facade, Noctis had said a year ago. That's what he was looking at on Ignis' face. Just a workable facade. "It's good that you feel that way. That means you'll do what it takes to make sure you don't do it again."

From outside the room, Noctis' voice wafted in. "Specs?"

"On my way," Ignis adjusted the glasses on his face and stood to his feet. "I'm glad you're going to be all right, Gladiolus."

"Iggy, please," Gladio moaned sadly, his heart hurting at the sound of his full name on those lips. "Just Gladio. We've been over this."

"Ah," Ignis' voice was cool, but Gladio knew the ice was just covering the hurt underneath. "And why should I use a familiar moniker when you have made it so very clear that we were never truly more than strangers?"

* * *

Gladio wasn't sure whether it was a weakness or a strength that Noctis forgave so easily. After the visit to the hospital, Noctis no longer took not answering phone calls as no, and soon Noctis had fit himself back into his life as though he'd never left. The difference now was that his shadow never accompanied him. Every time Noctis showed up, Gladio looked behind him hopefully, but Noct always shook his head. Sometimes he'd add, "I asked. He said no."

Having Noctis around helped with the drinking, as did the increased frequency of Iris' calls from Lestallum, but it wasn't enough, and he found himself listless and bored. "That's what happens," Noctis said between rounds of _Street Fighter_ one Friday night, "When you break up with your loving boyfriend, quit your job, and become a hermit except to drink your woes away."

"Not exactly encouraging, Noct."

"Just saying," his friend shrugged, "You've been sucking major dick in the life choices department for a couple years now. You fucked up, now you gotta decide what you're gonna do about it." Gladio knew he was right. He had fucked up. A lot, and he was trying to get himself back together, but it was hard, when the person who had always steered you in the right direction for such a long time was gone.

"I want to apologize to Ignis," he whispered, staring at the controller in his hands.

Noctis sighed, and a second later he felt him fall against him on the couch, their shoulders touching, Noct's head fitting against the curve of his neck. "You can't. You could physically do it. Say sorry, but all he'd do was say he accepted your apology and walk away. Specs doesn't put much stock in words. He's mostly too good at using them himself. You gotta prove you mean it, and honestly, I'm not sure you can. He doesn't open up to a lot of people, even within the pack, and all you've done is proven that he shouldn't. I don't think he ever will again. That's a _lot_ of sorry."

It was a lot of sorry, but Gladio still wanted to try.

The idea came to him when he was trying to sleep one night a couple weeks later, and he decided to run it by Noctis first. "You promise you're not gonna laugh at me?"

"Zero promises, but I'm listening."

Gladio supposed that at least Noctis was honest about it. He took a deep breath in, then out, and he pushed the entire idea between his lips. "What if I wanted to become a werewolf?" Noct didn't laugh, but he wasn't sure if the long stretch of silence that followed was any better. "Well?"

"You're serious."

"Yeah?"

Noctis was gnawing on his thumbnail, and Gladio knew that wasn't a good sign. "You do know that people generally don't choose to become werewolves?"

"Because they don't know they exist."

"Because it's _unpleasant_ ," Noct corrected. "Just. I've always been, so I don't know anything else, but I've seen people get changed. Stupid painful, and then you gotta change at least once a month, and it's not that bad for me, but Specs--" the air seemed to pause between them just mentioning Ignis, but then Noct moved forward and the moment passed. "You were never allowed to see Specs at full moon. There was a reason for that. Most werewolves don't choose it, they come to us already changed, and the ones who do choose it have a damn good reason, and often regret it anyway. You don't have a reason."

"Yeah, I do."

Noct's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "You wanna share with the class?"

Gladio sighed, "I'm an angry person."

"No," Noctis interjected. "You're an _emotional_ person. You have your emotions first, think later. You are not inherently angry. Anger is just an emotion that you feel often."

"Okay, fine, I'm an _emotional_ person, but we can agree that when I do shit by myself, I fuck up."  When he'd been a teenager, he'd gotten into fights, he'd sneaked out, acted out, gotten in trouble. As an adult, when he'd stopped listening to the people around him he'd lost Ignis, no, he'd thrown him away, proceeded to try to find the answer to his problems at the bottom of a bottle, and almost killed a man. He just didn't do well for himself by himself. It wasn't debatable, and he was grateful that Noctis didn't try and sugar coat it by disagreeing.

"Your point?"

"The sweet spot in my life...it was when I had you dragging me to movies, and I had Ignis giving me books, and Cor was training me on a sword." It hurt his heart too much to remember it had been even better when he'd had Ignis to call him to bed at night, to smile and spoon feed him the broth he was working on. He reached up and pressed his fingers against the spot where the ring Ignis had made lay on a chain against his chest. If he hadn't been such an idiot, he could have been wearing it on his finger. He could have been calling Ignis his husband. How stupid he had been.

"You mean that time when you had people telling you what to do? You could join the military for that, you know."

"No. It's...different. I had school to tell me what to do too. It had structure." He pressed his hands against his face, trying to think of how to explain it to Noctis. "You didn't mean to do it, but you controlled me. You, Cor, Ignis. My father was pretty much gone after Mom died, but his pack stepped up and took care of me instead, and when I walked away from that..."

"You fell apart."

"...Yeah."

"You think you need a pack to keep you in line. Not just a suggestion, something you could disobey if you really wanted to, but someone literally making you do things. Like pack does." Gladio nodded. "You know not all packs are nice like Dad's is, right? You know they can use that control to make you do terrible things. Dad sent Specs out to check out another pack once, when I wasn't quite full grown, one we'd been getting complaints about. Turned out the alpha was using his power to not only steal, as the complaints were about, but he made his pack rape girls he wanted to control. The pack didn't want to, it disturbed them too, but they had no choice- their alpha had ordered them to. He spent months with that pack afterward, trying to mend those ties, and they all ended up needing to be killed anyway. Being a werewolf is not pleasant. Are you absolutely sure this is what you want?"

Noct could tell him all the horror stories he wanted, but Gladio's mind was made up. "Yes."

Noctis sighed, and got up to his feet. "I make no promises, Gladio, but I'll talk to Dad."

* * *

Noctis was a man of his word, and a week later Gladio found himself in the den again, answering question after question as Regis went through all the formalities. Regis and Noctis looked alike, Gladio thought, but there was a gentle fairness to Noct that Regis lacked. It was easy to misjudge Noctis by his face and round, almost delicate features. Regis wasn't like that. There was no mistaking in the angles of his face that Regis was a man of power, and when you sat in his presence, awaiting judgement, it was intimidating.

"Are you frightened?"

"Terrified," Gladio admitted, knowing it would do him no good to lie. The wolves could smell a lie, and lying was a habit that had been stamped out of him at an early age. Even white lies were pointless. When a werewolf asked you a question, they appreciated it when you answered truthfully and bluntly. To prove the point, Regis smiled.

"That's a good thing. Healthy." Regis paused, looking through the piece of paper in his hand and then sighing. "You do know that Clarus is completely against this, correct?"

"I know." Noct's discouragement had been a light airy infomercial for perfume compared to what his father had given him when he'd found out. No amount of their words would dissuade him. He'd made up his mind, just like he had about everything else up to that point, but this felt different. This actually felt like the right choice, and not just the choice that his emotions shoved him toward.

"You know you could very well die," it wasn't a question. "Either you survive the attack and become a werewolf, or you die. There is no going back. There is no in between."

"I know."

Regis' shoulders heaved as he sighed, and the paper of questions was shoved back into the manila folder it had originally come from. "Then that's that, I suppose. Should I collect Clarus for the changing procedure, or--?"

"Ignis. I want it to be Ignis."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes." He'd given it a lot of thought. His father, or even Noctis would have probably been preferable choices. They were people he was close to, people he could trust to make it as humane as possible. It didn't matter. It was going to hurt a lot. Noct may have never been changed, but he tried to describe the kind of pain he felt when he shifted between forms. Excruciating was the simplest word his friend had used. Seemingly endless. Gladio could only imagine that the actual process of being changed would be worse. That was what made him sure that it had to be Ignis.

Noctis had told him words would never be enough. This was the one chance Ignis would ever have to hurt him even a fraction of the amount Gladio now knew he'd hurt him. It probably - no - definitely wouldn't be good enough, but maybe it could be a start of a proper apology, as he entered the phase of his life that he now knew he needed.

"All right. I'll go collect him. Stay here until we return. If you are not here when we return, we will assume you have changed your mind, and none of us will hold it against you."

Gladio sat glued to his chair as he watched Regis head out, leaving him utterly alone in the room. Alone, Gladio could feel the fear creeping in. He knew he couldn't go back from this. What if he was wrong? Like it seemed like he'd been about everything else in his life? What if Ignis wouldn't do it? What if no one would? What if they did? What if he died? What if he survived and he couldn't control the wolf? What if? What if? _What if_? A thousand what ifs ran through his head, making his heart race in his chest and the blood rushed in his ears. He tapped his feet, and wrung his hands, and wanted it all to be over.

He didn't get up.

When Regis returned, he'd expected Ignis to follow right behind him, perfectly dressed in a suit or business casual, just as he remembered him. Instead, what followed Regis into the room was a lean tawny colored wolf who sat itself down neatly some twenty feet away from him. The wolf stared with something even Gladio knew could only be disapproval, but, more curiously the eyes that stared him down weren't wolf blue or gold. They were green. Ignis, fully in control of his wolf, was staring at him, and all Gladio could think to say was, "You're beautiful." He'd never seen Ignis' wolf before, though he'd been subject to playful bouts with Noct's wolf from time to time. Noct was pure black, but Ignis had a more sophisticated, yet wild look to his wolf that set him apart.

Ignis, of course, could not speak, and instead, the look of disapproval only seemed to intensify.

"This is your last chance, Gladiolus. You can leave, right now. No one will think lesser of you."

"No," Gladio whispered, holding the wolf's gaze. "I'm ready." He was. The fear he'd felt was gone. Replaced with a numbness that filled his chest and a knowing that this was the right choice. He'd suffer, just as he deserved, at Ignis' hand, and, under the guiding hand of the pack, he'd start doing the right thing. The things he couldn't seem to achieve on his own.

"Very well." Regis opened the door again and began to step out. "Now, Ignis."

The wolf didn't hesitate, it charged at him, and Gladio realized it wasn't doing what he'd expected. He'd expect Ignis to circle him, nip, and bite, claw and scratch. In short, he'd expected Ignis to torture him through the change. Ignis wasn't doing that. Ignis was going straight for his throat, and the moment he realized that, Gladio realized he'd made yet another mistake. Ignis might be hurting, but he didn't to hurt Gladio in return, and by choosing him for this, by making him do this, Gladio had only added another item onto the list of things he needed to apologize for.

Someday.

The wolf's jaws closed around his throat, and for a time, Gladio knew nothing more.

* * *

The next thing Gladio was truly aware of was not physical pain, per say, but an agony he could not properly describe within. Outwardly he wasn't aware of anything at all, except that whatever was harming him was from outside. Inside, crawling beneath skin and inside his brain was something else. It was hungry. He was hungry. It circled and paced inside him, wanting control, but not able to get it.

Because he was dying.

The knowing made the outside exist, and he realized that he could barely breathe and doing so was the most painful thing he'd ever done each and every time he did it. His fingers and toes wouldn't flex, and the coppery tang of blood lingered in his mouth.

_"Fight."_

The word was spoken above him, softly, yet so loud his ears rang and pulsed, and distorted the noise. It hurt to hear it, yet he loved the sound. The spoken word was right. He could hear his heartbeat slowing inside him, and it would be so easy, so much less painful, to let it slip away...

To stop...

Forever...

_"I will never forgive you if you die."_

That got his attention. Yes. The distorted, painful, beloved voice of the man he'd once called his. The voice of Ignis, who he so desperately wanted to forgive him. If Ignis said it was true, then it was. If he died, he'd never be forgiven. He had to fight for what he wanted. The thing crawling in his brain and under his skin agreed. Fight. It wanted to live too. It wanted to breathe, and run, and fuck, and eat. It wanted to eat _everything_. That wouldn't do, Gladio thought through the cloud of his muddled brain. It couldn't eat everything. He'd stop it. He'd fight it, just as he fought for every breath that left the remains of his throat, as he fought for a twitch of his fingers.

It hurt. Nothing Noctis could have told him would have prepared him for this fire in his blood, these claws in his brain...but someone was holding his hand, and it gave it gave him the will to go on, even as he stopped being aware again.

* * *

Something wet was dripping on his face, something else wet ran down the palm of his hand. _"Please..."_ The word vibrated against his hand, warming the skin, but cooling the wet drops. Everything hurt, but it was different than the agony he'd known before. All his nerves seemed to burn with the fire of over stimulation, his muscles ached, his head throbbed, and he knew he didn't want to move, but he wasn't dying anymore. This was different. The difficulty breathing was fading as he became more aware, and the beat of his heart accelerated.

He opened his eyes.

Everything was overly bright, and for an instant the word drugs filled his thoughts, but then he remembered. The change. He'd given himself over to be changed. He'd hurt Ignis yet again in the doing so.

_Ignis._

The brightness began to focus, bit by bit, and Ignis, the man, not the wolf, was the first thing he saw. Brilliant, green eyes, greener than he ever remembered them being, stared down at him from a face that was partially obscured by his own hand, held against Ignis' cheek by fingers that seemed longer and paler than he remembered them being before. Tears. That was the wetness. Even as their eyes met those tears increased in volume, and above everything else that hurt right now, Gladio's heart ached.

"Hey," he rapsed out against a throat so dry and raw that he thought speaking would make it bleed. "It's okay," his thumb protested the movement as he moved it along Ignis' cheek, disturbing the trail of tears. "I'm alive. I'm going to be okay."

Ignis took in a deep, shuddering breath, and he began to speak. "Gladio, I--" That was as far as he got before the door burst open in a painful clatter of sound and multiple people came running in, his father in the lead, and suddenly Ignis was gone from his side as his father took his place.

Gladio tried to track Ignis' movements against everyone else's, and he managed to follow Ignis' figure to the open door. Their eyes met again, and Gladio realized something: He would _always_ love Ignis. It was a fact. Nothing would ever change that, but neither could anything change the fact that his father had been right months and months ago.

Love was not enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> You should totally come yell at me on [Tumblr](https://charmkeeperix.tumblr.com/)


	2. Vow of Vengeance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis has watched Ignis take care of him all his life, that's just what Ignis does. When his uncle goes missing, Ignis runs himself ragged, and suddenly Noctis finds that he has to care for Ignis. Can Noctis take care of the man who's always taken care of him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> I'm back with another side chapter for _Finding Home_. This time it's from **Noctis' POV** , and it's really just a small snippet of backstory for both Noctis and Ignis. This chapter is **100% canon** to _Finding Home_ , and it takes place roughly **fifty-five** years before its start.
> 
> There is no real pairing to this chapter, unless you count **one-sided(?) pining** on Noctis' end, and the end is **unhappy** , but not the heartbreak of last chapter, I think.
> 
> It's **not really necessary** to read _Finding Home_ to understand this chapter, but it does add more understanding to the main story, especially later on in the storyline.

It wasn't often that Noctis had orders to take care of someone. He was a dominant, it was in his nature to care for less dominant and submissive wolves, but since he'd come into his magic he was largely considered handicapped. It wasn't that he wasn't strong, he was. His magic was like one of the bombs they'd used in the war, very deadly, very destructive if handled incorrectly, but there was a very fine line for most witchborn, you either chose to let your magic fizzle out, and remained a decent person, or you gave in to the torture and pain and began to enjoy it. His father had chosen to fizzle out long ago.

Noctis had chosen a third path. There was a third path for semi-immortals like him. It was very narrow and it straddled the line, but his mother had chosen it too, and it had worked for a long time in her favor. As he was now, this third path was painful, and it involved having a loved one inflict a very damaging wound to your body for the magic to seep through when it became too much, and also to fuel it with the pain you felt when you needed it, a double edged knife. Painful and limiting though it might be, the power and decency of soul was worth it...Or so he told himself. There were days when he thought it would be better to follow his father and let the magic fizzle out. There were a _lot_ of those days, not just because of the pain, or the lack of energy, or even the depression, but that feeling of being useless.

He was a dominant, he was meant to do and protect. He definitely served a purpose the way he was, but it was like a can-opener, very specific. He would rather be a fork or a spoon. Like everyone else.

But what if a problem that only his magic could solve came along and he no longer had it? The guilt would be immeasurable, and so he chose to remain stuck, in constant need of someone to make sure he ate and slept, and to pick up after him when he lacked the motivation and energy to do anything else.

There was a solution for his in between condition, and his father highly recommended it. He could choose a mate. Aulea, his mother, had no longer needed the handicapping injury once they'd mated, and, until her death, his father had been able to both access and use her magic. They weren't exactly sure why, but his father said he suspected it was like water and a glass. Too much water would overwhelm a small glass, but if you had two glasses to share the water, the water filled both perfectly no need to drain or spill. It had been a good bond, an ideal situation for both of them, and a situation that could only occur between werewolves. Without the healing and without the ability to bond to one another other witchborns couldn't do it. It was an opportunity he was told he shouldn't waste.

 _"It needn't be love,"_ his father kept telling him, _"The wolf doesn't necessarily care about that. It can be more of a business deal. You get freedom, they get magic. No love, no sex, all business."_

His father was loving, and caring, and meant the best, but his father was also wrong. For Noctis, a mate absolutely did need to be love, in fact, he and his wolf had already chosen one person, the only person, they would accept as their mate. Ironically, it was the man he was currently caring for, and even more ironically, it was the man who usually took care of him - Ignis.

Ignis Scientia had apparently come to the pack fifty years before Noctis was born as a human, and had spent those fifty years as their silversmith, creating jewelry that was now worth a very pretty penny in certain circles. According to all accounts from those who were still alive from that period of time, Ignis had worked for them, had been cordial and understanding, but had only ever really been close to his uncle, Ignatius, who was one of the pack's submissives. That aside, he'd never, at all, period, wanted to be a werewolf, in fact, by all accounts, he'd always abhorred the idea, and had wanted to die with his humanity. That is, until him.

His father liked to embarrass him by telling him that Ignis had only looked at Noctis once before agreeing to change and agreeing to be his caretaker through childhood. Noctis didn't really think that was the full story, but even if it were, Ignis had agreed to care for him through _childhood_. Noctis wasn't a child anymore. Noctis was now forty-five.

For forty-five years Noctis had watched Ignis take care of him, well beyond the care that anyone as young and healthy seeming as he ought to need, but never had Ignis needed anyone to take care of him. He got injured occasionally, more than an hour or so of sitting down and a cup of coffee would take care of, and when that occurred, he holed himself up in that little cabin he called a house and didn't come out for a couple of days. This was different than that.

Right now, Ignis wasn't injured, per say, but there was a crisis going on within the pack. Ignatius was missing from the pack, his bonds shut off so tightly that they couldn't even track him. It was a bad thing for any wolf within the pack, for as a submissive, all the dominants were taking it as a personal failure, and almost everything was on lockdown until he was found. Ignis, being _very_ dominant and _very_ close to Ignatius had taken it _extremely_ personally. It had been discovered that Ignatius was gone four days ago, and from that instant until tweleve hours ago, Ignis had been searching nonstop.

It had been Nyx who had brought Ignis back to them after he'd collapsed of exhaustion. _"He might need a new car,"_ he'd said with a frown. _"But he definitely needs sleep, food, and water **now**. Someone should have stopped him way before this."_

There were only three wolves more dominant than Ignis currently in the pack, and that was his father, Clarus, and him. Clarus and his father were also busy searching for their missing submissive, and that meant exhausted Ignis was left in his care to make sure that if he tried to go back out the moment he awoke, Noctis could order him to stay put and rest. Noctis normally hated giving orders like that, but even he agreed that in this case it was for the best.

Ignis looked terrible. He'd always been a slim, lanky sort of man, with high cheekbones, but after searching nonstop for several days, Noctis suspected that you could open an envelope with those cheekbones. He'd lost at least five pounds, maybe more, and most werewolves toed the line between lean and too skinny anyway. It was too much.

It was a boring assignment, as most of his assignments were, but Noctis didn't really mind. Ignis was well worth the hurry up and wait. It seemed that for the most part, he was needed by Ignis' bedside every two hours, as that was about how long the order of " _Go back to sleep, Specs,_ " seemed to last. When Ignis was awake, he was shoving water and pizza from Tony's down his throat, with Ignis, who was very much making it clear that he didn't _care_ for being taken _care_ of, glaring at him the whole while. When he was asleep, Noctis was either watching television on the small screen Ignis had downstairs, getting more pizza for the next time he woke up, or was next to his bed, reading...which was boring and never was quite able to keep his attention. (It was much better when Ignis read to him. He could focus on the words then.)

He was reading a book about a boy named Jim and a treasure map when he felt the snap.

Noctis had not often experienced the feeling of a packmate's death in his life. His father was very good to and about his wolves, if a wolf left the pack it was more that his father had seen fit to banish them from the pack, or simply that they had to move to a different one. It felt like a string being pulled out out of a blanket, not the most comfortable change, but nothing like the snap of an over extended fishing line that he felt now. Heart wrenching pain and the sting of failure was what it felt like against his soul. That was bad enough, but it was nothing like what Ignis apparently felt.

Noctis knew that Ignis got it worse, because while he just felt the snap against his soul, Ignis sat straight up in bed and literally screamed at the loss.

It was beyond painful to watch carefully put together Ignis scream at a pitch that might make his own ears bleed, his hands, clutching at his heart like it was being stabbed inside his chest, tears running down his cheeks, and then, when the scream faded he began to shake uncontrollably. Before, Noctis might have guessed that it had been Ignatius' bond that had snapped with his death, but now Noctis was positive. A wolf did not feel a death howl for every pack member, only for those you were closest with. Ignis was not close with many. In fact, Noctis would say they'd just felt the death of the only one Ignis would say he was _truly_ close with.

Noctis' heart ached for Ignis' loss. "Specs..." he breathed past the ache, moving swiftly from his chair to the bed, and leaning himself against Ignis. Ignis stiffened at the touch, and Noctis knew that he wouldn't get away with giving much comfort before Ignis tried to pull away. He didn't want to be comforted yet. Noctis understood, but the unspoken rejection still stung. "Specs, I am _so_ sorry."

"He was tortured," Ignis half sobbed. "I could feel it, Noctis. That was why he shut the bonds down so much that we couldn't track him. He was tortured, and when they wouldn't give them what they wanted, they killed him slowly. He kept it from us, so that we wouldn't _suffer_ too." Ignis broke down into muffled crying then, and the wolf inside Noctis demanded he fix it. Make his chosen mate better. _Fix it._ Noctis wanted to, wished he could, but knew he couldn't, no matter how the wolf paced inside him and tried to make demands. There was nothing he could do that would bring Ignatius back.

"Do you want me to leave?" His wolf growled at him for even suggesting it, but Noctis knew it was the right question, giving him an option was a good thing right now. Giving him an option was giving him some modicum of control over his environment. A wolf like Ignis needed that control in a moment where he surely felt like he had none.

For a moment, Ignis said nothing, and Noctis braced himself to get up, "No," Ignis said just as he was about to get up, "Stay, Noct." His shoulders shook with held back sobs and Noct's heart broke all over again, "Please stay."

Quietly, Noctis breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed back against Ignis' side. "I'll stay as long as you need."

"My thanks for your kindness."

They stayed like that until Ignis fell back asleep, and Noct's back began to hurt too much for him to continue sitting like that. They weren't particularly entwined, so removing himself from Ignis' side was easy, and he settled himself back into the chair, and his back twinged, but returned to something more bearable.

Ignis said there were medications in pharmacies that would dull the pain and yet not remove the effect of the wound, but such things were pointless for a werewolf who's metabolism would run through it in seconds. _"We'd have given you laudanum in my day,"_ Ignis had once told him. _"You'd have liked it. Numbs pain, helps with sleep, and a variety of other_ _things."_ Ignis had smirked then, Noct remembered, it had made him look very kissable.

Noctis remembered frowning instead. _"Your tone says it's bad though."_

_"It is. It's still in use, but changed and highly regulated. In my day we'd practically used it as a panacea, today we know it has...various ill side effects that oftentimes outweigh the good."_

_"Such as death, vomiting, and addiction, I bet."_

_"Just so."_

Some days, Noctis wondered exactly how much laudanum he'd have to drink to remember what it was like to have no pain at all, even for a couple minutes. Today he wondered how much it would take to make Ignis sleep for days. He also wondered how much whiskey he'd need to drink to forget that his beloved uncle was dead. Could you mix whiskey and laudanum together and make some sort of super mixture? Or would one negate the other? It was a moot point, he supposed, it would run through his system too quickly regardless, and Noctis knew it wouldn't be what Ignis wanted anyway. He really ought to be wondering what he was going to make him eat when he got up again. The answer until now had been pizza, but now it should be something more comforting, something he actually liked. Noct was shit with cooking though, and Ignis wasn't allowed near the stove right now. Maybe he'd just take him out to eat. He'd slept enough for a car ride, right? Surely his father wouldn't get angry about that.

Going out to eat at the restaurant of Ignis' choice sounded decent, and with that decided, Noct picked up the book he'd been reading again and tried to distract himself from the disaster field of emotions fluttering in his chest from across the entire pack.

At some point, he must have fallen asleep, for the next thing he was aware of was the phone ringing downstairs, and Ignis jolting awake in front of him. "No!" Noctis said, the still open book tossed to one side, and his voice definitely thick with sleep. "Nope, no. Stay. I'll get it. I got it." He waited the second it took for Ignis to still and then ran downstairs, almost stumbling over his own feet several times before he got to the still ringing phone. "Hello," he said, managing to sound more awake than he felt, "Scientia residence, this is Noctis."

 _"Ah. Noctis. You sound so formal."_ Clarus, his brain numbly told him. This was Clarus' voice.

"Can, when I want." He breathed in deeply, hoping it would help him wake up. "Do you need me to get Specs?"

 _"No, you can relay the message."_ Clarus' sad sigh came through the phone even heavier than it did in person. _"We've found Ignatius."_ That. That woke Noctis right up. _"We're bringing his body back to the den now."_

"Okay," he said, his heart hammering in his chest. "Okay. I'll bring Specs back too then."

 _"Noctis..."_ Clarus paused. _"Maybe you shouldn't. It's not pretty."_

"He knows." His mind ran back to Ignis' sobbing, to his confession that he knew it was torture. If he'd died before the signs of torture had faded...well...it could be quite ugly indeed. "He knows it's bad. He...he howled when he died."

_"Ah."_

"He needs to see." Noctis held his breath, hoping and praying that Clarus didn't argue with him. Clarus was the pack's second. That meant Clarus was above him, and Clarus could give him an order, but dammit Clarus didn't know what was best for Ignis. Noctis knew what was best for Ignis. Right now Noctis knew that what was best for Ignis was to see his uncle's body and rip that wound wide open, so that it could start to properly heal afterwards.

 _"Understood. We'll meet you there."_ There was a soft click that indicated Clarus had hung up without a goodbye, and Noctis breathed again as the glaring disconnect noise invaded his eardrum. Okay. Okay. He could do this. They could do this.

He ran back up the stairs to find that Ignis was up and was pulling on his jacket. He looked terrible, the signs of crying were still on his face, those cheekbones were still too sharp, and the dark circles under his eyes were still just too damn dark. "How much were you able to hear?"

"Just your side of it," Ignis said with a huff that bellied the light tone of voice he was using. "But that's enough to know that my uncle has been found and we're going back to the den."

"Right," Noctis mumbled. "I'm driving."

"If you so desire." It was both comforting and _terrifying_ that Ignis didn't argue about that.

The drive back to the den was filled with silence save for the rumble of the car itself, and Noctis had barely taken the key out of the ignition before Ignis was up and out of the car, marching toward the front steps. Noct almost had to run to keep up.

Monica met them in the foyer. As another submissive in the pack. Her very presence was comforting, and her sympathetic face added to the effect. The fact that Noct knew the expression was genuine only served to warm his heart further as she led them up into the east wing to Ignatius' rooms. "Thank you, Monica," he told her softly, making sure to let her know she'd done the right thing, an important thing for a submissive to understand constantly, especially when emotions were running high, and not everyone would remember to take care of their still alive submissives. "We'll let you know if we need anything else."

"Of course, Noctis. I'll be right here." He managed to give her a wan smile that she returned as he followed Ignis into his uncle's rooms.

They found him carefully laid out on his bed, but no amount gentle placing could disguise the state Ignatius' body was in. Noctis only took a glance, but it was enough to know that he'd suffered a great deal of pain before he'd been killed. It was enough to know that a true monster had done this. It was enough to know that Ignatius had used a tremendous amount of strength of will to not call out to his pack for help, and to know that Ignatius had been protecting them in doing so. He knew dominants often thought being submissive meant being weak. It didn't. This proved it. Ignatius had been _strong_ , and his death was a great loss for them.

He turned his head away, but he could not escape the smell of blood and death that was already starting to permeate the room. It made him want to vomit. If he'd eaten anything within the last couple of hours, he probably would have. As it was, bile threatened at the back of his throat, but he swallowed it down.

Ignis was still staring at the mangled body of his uncle, and Noctis followed his instincts, reaching out and grabbing onto Ignis an instant before his knees seemed to give out, and Ignis simply fell against him. He wasn't crying this time, but then Noctis wasn't sure the man had any tears left in him. Slowly, which was hard for him, he lowered them both to the floor. He set Ignis' head against his shoulder, his other hand scrabbling for his, and he entwined their fingers. After about a minute of listening to Ignis' labored yet controlled breathing, Noctis realized he was rocking them to and fro, but he didn't think it was helping. Ignis was sad, heartbroken. Noctis was heartbroken too, but Noctis was also _furious_.

"Look at me, Ignis." He breathed in, held it, and then let go, "Ignis Scientia." He hoped his full name would get through to him, and it did. Ignis sat back, not enough to break their contact, but enough that they were eye to eye. "I vow to you--"

"Noctis, don't."

"Nope. _Definitely_ doing it." He clenched his teeth, and then continued speaking through them. "I vow to you, Ignis Scientia, that someday I will get you vengeance. Someday, the one who did this to your uncle will know pain and then will die, just as he did. I _vow_ it."

"Noctis, you don't even know who did this."

"We'll find out."

They found out only two hours later when Clarus came to collect them from the floor of Ignatius' bedroom. He gave them a name. It was a name Noctis made sure to never forget. The man who had murdered Ignatius was named Ardyn Izunia.


	3. Separation Anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time since they formed a pack Gladio and Prompto are going to be gone for days, and Noctis isn't sure he can handle their absence. Luckily, he has Ignis around to keep him grounded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> This time we have a small scene from **Noctis' POV** , and it takes place **directly after chapter 15**. There isn't a real pairing to this scene, minus the mention of **Promptio** and, of course, **Noctis' pining for Ignis**.
> 
> The ending is sort of **neutral** , neither happy or unhappy.
> 
> I know, I know, of ALL the chapters I could have written an extra scene to, I chose this one. I can't help what sticks out in my head.
> 
> Bonus if anyone catches he "game tie" I hid in here.

Noctis wasn't sure how his father did it. His father had been alpha of his pack for a very long time, and had a great number (Noctis had never bothered to properly count them, though he knew all of their names and faces) of wolves in his care. Some of them lived far out from the den, hell, Ignis had lived pretty damn far out from the den from the time he'd been changed until the time Noctis had formed his own pack. Some wolves only checked in weekly or monthly, despite all of them serving a purpose within the pack, and it had never been something that Noctis had really questioned before, at least, not until now.

Now, Noctis wondered how his father could stand it. Wolves that were clearly under his protection, his control, just...not being there. For _days_ at a time. Gladio and Prompto have only been gone for half an hour on what would end up being a three day trip, and Noctis already felt like he couldn't stand it. He was used to them being gone during the day now, and that wasn't really a big deal, he could nap and play games, and it'd be fine. Before he knew it most days, Prompto and his freckled sunshine smile would be running through the door, Gladio's comforting gaze trailing not far behind, but to spend a night, more than one night, knowing that they won't be nearby for him to protect if need be...

It was crushing.

What if they didn't come back? What if they were gone from him and Ignis and they decided that they didn't need them? What if they ran away to start their own little pack? Worse, what if something happened to them? What if something attacked them and they weren't strong enough to fend it off? What if they were hurt? What if they died? Oh gods above, what if they died without him there? What if it was worse than just not seeing them again? What if the next time he saw them they were on a cold metal surface? Prompto's normally flushed skin pale and frigid, his bright, cheery freckles fading as time went on? Gladio's warm tanned skin almost blue, because he wasn't there to _protect_ them. What if there wasn't even enough left to identify? What if--

Noctis was on his feet in an instant, the blood rushing through his ears, socks sliding across the floor before his arms curled themselves desperately around Ignis' chest, his face burying itself into the spot where he could feel the bones of Ignis neck ending and the ones in his spine beginning. He inhaled deeply through the fabric of Ignis' suit jacket that he knew Ignis used as a sort of barrier between him and everyone else...even between himself and Noctis.

Gladio has always had an odd sort of smell that mixed the ink of books and motor oil into a modern clean-yet-dirty sort of thing. Prompto always smelled like spring. There was really no other way to describe the sunshine-y, breath of fresh air that was his scent. Noctis loves their scents, and he loves being surrounded by them, but Ignis' scent was by far his favorite.

True to his name, Ignis primarily smells like the last embers of a dying fire, but it's mixed with the pleasing scent of sage, no matter what sort of meal he'd cooked during the day.The result is that Ignis always smells like burning sage, cleansing and comforting. Just inhaling that earthy-fiery smell has always been enough to calm him, it was, after all, the scent of his beloved. Even though he knows his love is unrequited, Noctis found his sense of home in Ignis long ago. He'd live in a cardboard box if Ignis were there...but that doesn't mean he doesn't need the rest of his pack too. His heart is big enough to carry a quiet flame for all of them. It was just that Ignis' flame was the oldest and brightest of them.

His heart sinks down in familiar disappointment as he feels Ignis' chest expand and contract as he heaved one of the exasperated sighs that Noctis knows are typically reserved only for him and his antics. He knows Ignis doesn't love him. He knows Ignis doesn't even _like_ him. To Ignis, Noctis has always just been his job. He became a werewolf at seventy years old to pursue that job, and Noctis also knows Ignis has never forgiven him for it. Ignis would tell him that it was his own choice, but it wasn't really. Noctis knows better.

"What's wrong, Noct?"

"I miss them," his grumble comes out muffled against that spot on Ignis' spine, and he allows his arms to squeeze a little tighter, restricting Ignis' breathing just a little, and he finally stops washing the dishes.

"I truly meant it when I said you could go with them. I would have been fine here. Monica and Dustin won't harm me, and despite the petty squabbling, Regis would not permit an attack on my person from more dominant wolves."

Noctis knew that all of this was true, but, "They needed the alone time." Noctis was sure that the two of them were genuinely going to explode if they weren't given a night to themselves _soon_. He didn't understand fucking. Well, he did, he understood how it worked, and he understood that it was pleasurable, and was a healthy part of most romantic relationships, blah, blah, blah. He _understood_ all that. He even understood that he might even enjoy the act of sex from time to time, but the _desire_  just wasn't there. The _attraction_ wasn't there. He'd never looked at anyone and thought  _'I'd tap that.'_ Not even Ignis. He _loved_ Ignis. He thought he was beautiful and handsome. He burned for things from him, like his touch, a kiss on the lips, their fingers to be intertwined for no reason other than _just because_ , for him to say he loved him back. Yearning for what was between his legs? Never.

He'd once tried to explain it to Gladio as mints. He didn't _mind_ mints. When someone offered him a mint, he usually took a freaking mint. He never bought mints for himself. He understood that for most people, sex was like water; they _needed_ it, couldn't live without it, but for Noctis it was mints or a piece of gum. If someone he loved or trusted offered, he might take it, but he'd never seek it out.

Gladio and Prompto had needed their "water," and Noctis coming along for the ride would have gotten in the way of that. He knew that staying here with Ignis was the right choice, even though it meant the anxiety gnawed in his chest, and it meant he couldn't see Luna, and he knew Ignis probably would have liked some alone time too. He sighed, his heart sinking even further.

Since he'd broken up with Gladio, Ignis didn't really want to be around _anyone_ very often. He'd never properly healed from the breakup, it had been one too many blows for him, and instead, he'd just gotten better at pretending that he wasn't broken. Ignis was still a werewolf, he needed pack, he needed the contact, needed to be needed, but he tried not to let anyone close enough to hurt him anymore. It was hard when they all lived together. Noctis knew Ignis would probably buy his own house away from the den when they moved. Not immediately, but Noct would be willing to bet good money that within two years, Ignis would be living separately again, only coming by to cook, clean, and then leave, like he was a maid and not a precious packmate. He had to try and prevent that, he just wasn't sure how to do it. He needed to figure it out.

"Why don't you take a nap?" Ignis was pulling away from him, and Noctis just wanted to hold on tighter. Stay. His other packmates were gone. Just stay with him. Be with him. He didn't force it, and he was still reluctant as he let Ignis leave his arms, his scent regrettably moving away with him. "It's been an hour since breakfast, you could take a nap, and by the time you wake, it'll be lunchtime. Maybe after that they'll even be there." He knew what Ignis was saying. Sleep made the time go faster, and the more he slept the sooner they'd call, and the sooner they'd come back to him. He also knew that by suggesting it, Ignis was pushing him away. _"Go find your comfort somewhere else,"_ was the meaning hidden underneath the soft logical words. _"I don't want you to cling to me."_

"Noctis," Ignis' soft voice sighed, bringing him back to reality that made him realize he'd been gnawing on is lip and staring at the ground. Were those tears in the corners of his eyes? Shit. "Oh. Noct." Ignis' arms reached for him this time, and he bit back a sob, hard, as his comforting scent enveloped him again. "Please don't cry. They'll be back. You'll see. They'll be back, and they'll have found a home in Insomnia, where you can visit Luna every day, and Gladio can visit Iris once a week, and Prompto can become a world famous photographer. You'll all be happy. I'm sure of it."

 _And what about you? What about **your** happiness?_ He didn't say it, he knew better, but this time he did sob. The tears broke free of his eyes and ran down his face as he tried to drown himself in Ignis, and Ignis rubbed his back, as thought he could tell that it had started to throb something furious.

Noct didn't know how long they stood there before his tears and sobs quieted, and Ignis pulled back, just enough that they could look at each other's faces. "I do think you need more sleep. You'll feel better if you do."

He knew Ignis was right, as Ignis was right about almost everything, but he shook his head. "Come watch a movie with me, Specs." _Don't leave me quite yet._

To his great relief, Ignis nodded as he reached out to gently push a bit of his hair out of Noctis' face. "All right. I can spare that much time. What movie?"

To Noct, the choice was obvious, though his face twinged pink and he mumbled, " _The Princess Bride_."

Ignis smiled, not his real one, not the one that had died years before, but it was still a smile that for a second made Noctis forget that his packmates were gone, Ignis was miserable, and his back hurt him. "As you wish."


	4. The Born

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis is unique, he was born a werewolf, something that has never happened before. Other people treat him differently for it, expect greatness from a child, but Noctis doesn't want to be special. Noctis wants to be normal, and live a life of happiness with his friends, family, and the man who's always been there, Ignis. What you want is not always what you get, and Noctis must learn to make do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello yet again!
> 
> Today's update is Noctis' very much shortened backstory. It ranges from between about **ninety-seven to seventy-six years** before the start of _Finding Home_. It is **100% canon** to the main story, and it's ending is **unhappy** , just like every other one of my side chapter endings so far. OTL
> 
> Except Noct's eventual (and eternal) pining for Ignis, there's **no pairing** to this chapter.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this, and I hope it gives you a little insight to Noct's character in the main story!

The first time Noctis spoke about his brother aloud, his nanny's eyes narrowed behind his spectacles and his nose scrunched up in a way that would become very familiar to Noctis as the years passed by. "You don't have a brother, Little One."

His nanny's name was Ignis, which was a name his mouth could not properly form yet, and so Noctis normally called him just "Nanny" when he called for him, and that was fine, for Ignis never idly called Noctis by name either. He was always "Little One," unless he was angry, and then he became the full "Noctis Lucis-Caelum." His brother mockingly referred to him as "Big One." His brother did not much care for Ignis, especially in this moment when he denied that he existed.

"Do too."

His nanny hummed his "I don't believe you, but I'll humor you" hum, and looked back at the book he'd been reading, one foot idly pushing him back and forth on the rocking chair. Really, despite his brother's dislike of him, Noctis was fond of Ignis. His lap was wide and open, and what he really wanted to do was crawl into that lap and make Ignis read to him until he fell asleep listening to his heartbeat. Brother wouldn't allow it until Ignis acknowledged that he existed. "What does your brother look like?"

"Like me?"

Ignis smiled a smile that was not really a nice smile. "Of course he does, how silly of me. Where does he hide so well that I never see him?"

"In here," Noctis jabbed a finger at his head, "And in here." This time his finger jabbed his chest.

"Ah." This wasn't a hum, but it was something similar, but it was better, because it meant that Ignis was connecting the dots inside his head. "That's not your brother, Little One. That is your wolf. He _is_ a part of you, but he is not your brother." This statement didn't cause Noctis to think that his brother was not his brother, but rather to think of it as his brother, the Wolf. Or Brother Wolf. Still, it enough acknowledgment from his brother that Noctis was allowed to push and crawl his way onto Nanny's lap and listen to his heartbeat while he read him stories about wolves. Noctis knew Ignis told the endings wrong. The wolves in stories never actually won, but he liked the lie anyway, and never commented on the fact that he knew the woodcutter killed the wolf in the end, or that the mother goat cut her kids out of the wolf's belly and he fell down a well.

* * *

By the time Noctis began to realize that he wasn't like the other wolves, he was old enough to pronounce "Ignis" correctly, but had already settled on a nickname he used to insult him. He wasn't sure whether or not Ignis truly hated being called "Specs," at least when they were alone, but when he called him that in front of anyone else his lips tightened until it was nothing more than a line on his face, and so Noctis knew it was an unacceptable nickname in public. Brother Wolf approved, for he still hated how Ignis called them "Little One."

Despite the fact that Ignis could surely teach them anything they would ever need to know, Noctis had started attending school. He didn't like it. The teacher had too many other people to teach, and never focused on one person, no matter whether that person was behind or ahead of the rest of the class. Nothing was specialized, not like the way it was when Ignis taught him things. If Ignis taught, he was sure that some students would be studying ahead, and others behind, and that Ignis would never make anyone feel more or less, but they always knew they were doing their best. Brother Wolf may not have liked Ignis, but even he admitted that he liked school even less, and liked it better when they returned home to find Ignis waiting with a soft smile, and he would hug him when he ran to him. "Welcome home, Little One," he'd whisper in Noctis' ear, and Noctis would know that it was true; he was _home_.

There were days when he returned home and it didn't feel like home because Ignis wasn't smiling and there was no hug. Instead Ignis would call him by name, just the first name, not his full "you're in deep trouble" name. On those days, Noctis knew his father had requested their presence.

Noctis loved his father. They had dinner together every night, and on Sundays, his nanny was sent away, and he and his father did something together, like visit the zoo. His father wore an easy smile, and loved to laugh, and was, in general, more fun than Ignis. Even at his young age, he knew Ignis was no parent of his. Ignis was something else, a something else he loved as much as Brother Wolf hated, but they both loved and agreed on his father, except when he came home to that look on Ignis' face.

When he came home to that look, he had to put his schoolbag aside and change into fancy, tight fitting, uncomfortable clothing, and Ignis took him down to what he called the Audience Room. Before he was sent in, Ignis would pick him up, tickle him until he gasping for air between laughs, and then, when his heart was high and elated, Ignis would hiss an order into his ear. It was always the same one; "Be good for your father." When he got older, Noctis would realize how unspecific this order was, how much leniency it actually granted him, and knew that Ignis had hated doing it as much as he'd hated taking it, but as a child he'd known that there would no more fun for that day, and oh how Brother Wolf paced inside him growling. He was the one who ought to be giving orders, not their caretaker.

After the order was given, Ignis would send him inside the room and stay outside. Inside the room was almost always the exact same thing. There was his father, and Uncle Clarus, and someone else he didn't know. It was never the same person, but it always seemed that they had come to see him. They weren't allowed to touch, but they looked at him from every angle, and always asked stupid questions, and in the end seemed confused but disappointed. "The Born," they called him, not Noctis, not even Little One, and it was this that both he and his brother hated most of all. At least being called Little One was affectionate. Being the Born was somehow just insulting.

Noctis always quietly hated those visits, and dreaded it when they came, but one day, when he was eight , he learned precisely how much Ignis hated them too. "He's a child, Regis!" Ignis practically screamed one day after the latest man left. " _Your_ child! But you parade him around like he's a show dog! It isn't right!"

As alpha, Noctis knew his father could shut Ignis down with a word, beat him for the yelling, but he didn't, instead he looked ashamed, and would not meet Ignis' eye. "I know, but they want to see him, and it isn't right for me to deny them that request."

"They want to examine him because they think he's their _messiah_! He is but a boy! He is no one's messiah!"

"He is yours."

Noctis would always remember the way Ignis' back went rigid straight, and he'd always remember the way his gloved hands fisted and shook as he whispered, "A messiah is someone who _saves_ you. We all know that is _not_ what Noctis did for me." Silence hung so thick between them that Noctis could feel it, even though he couldn't understand why. After a moment, Ignis tutted, and turned his head toward the ground before he picked Noctis up into his arms and began to walk out of the room. "No more, Regis. I will not bring him again." They were empty words, for even Noctis knew that Ignis would do anything his father said, willingly or not, but his father did not ask again, and that was enough.

* * *

When he was a little older, he began to truly realize that werewolves weren't born like he was. Most werewolves were made, and that made him very different than anyone else. The nickname outsider wolves called him suddenly made sense, but Noctis only hated it more. Brother Wolf began to like Ignis for protecting them from it. _"One day, we'll protect him in return."_ It was the first time they'd been so fully in agreement that their thoughts had been as one.

* * *

Noctis was ten when he met Luna.

Theaters had recently started showing something called _Silly Symphonies_. For his birthday, Ignis had brought him to see the first one, and, if he'd been good, he'd said he would bring him to see the next one when it came out. Noctis had been very good all month, and Ignis had kept his promise. He'd giggled when they'd left the theater, and Ignis had gotten him ice cream, and then, as a final treat, they had gone to the park.

They didn't go to the park very often. Werewolves were stronger than humans, and even Noctis would admit that when playing with human children he often forgot that fact. He understood that when Ignis said no about playing with other children in a physical manner, it wasn't to punish him, but to protect them. It still made him sulk sometimes, but he understood. He also understood that today his caretaker was placing a lot of trust in him.

"Do you want me to play with you?"

Quickly, Noctis shook his head back and forth. "I'll be okay on my own!"

"All right," Ignis said with a nod. He turned a little and pointed at the swing-set "I'll be watching you from over there, come get me when you're done, or I'll come get you when it's time to head back." Noctis had nodded his agreement and had watched Ignis take his place at the swings, not truly swinging, but lightly pushing himself back and forth with one foot.

Noctis ran off to play.

For a little while he played tag with some other kids, and then hide and seek, and then there was the merry-go-round, and spinning that was a lot of fun, but then he saw the most fun thing of all. It was a cat. It was white, fluffy, and had one blue eye and one golden eye. It was beautiful, and Noctis loved it the instant he saw it. Of course, Noctis loved any and all cats he saw, it was unconditional. Cats were made to be loved. He had to hold it.

Of course, it ran from away from him when he approached it, but that did nothing to deter him, and he chased after it. He chased it all over the yard and up toward the treeline. "Noctis!" He heard Ignis call for him in the distance, "Stop chasing the cat!" It was a warning, rather than an order, but it was too late, and before he could even decide whether he was going to obey or disobey, he'd stepped through into something...wrong. The trees were in the same places but they were dulled, as though they were made of stone instead of wood, and the playground was gone, as was the cat.

Ignis was gone too. In fact, his entire pack was gone from his heart, and it made Brother Wolf howl and pace unhappily inside him. He wanted out, to search for his pack, but no, that would be too much. Ignis would say he needed to maintain control. He tried. He tried to do what Ignis would do, what Ignis would tell him to do, but there were no policemen to find, and everything smelled weird, and Noctis was _sure_ that he could hear people talking just beyond his earshot.

Sometimes he swore they laughed when he couldn't find them.

He wasn't sure how long it was before he let Brother Wolf take over, but it was at least four hours. It was at least another four hours before Brother Wolf found anything.

What he found were lights that had started to glow in the oncoming darkness. They didn't make noise, and they didn't move, but they were the first things that indicated...well...anything, other than phantom noises, and so Brother Wolf made his way toward them, only to be stopped when something leaped into his path.

_"Stop!"_

All he heard was a squeak in his head, but the word was somehow clear as day. In front of him was a small creature, even cuter than a cat (something Noctis had previously thought impossible.) It was pale, with fluffy fur, huge ears, and a dull red horn in the center of its head. He stopped.

He swore that he heard another squeak, but his mind said it was a sigh of relief, and the creature sat itself down, intelligent eyes staring up into his own.

_"Those are Will-o-Wisp. They will lead you to your death, and not even your bones will remain when they are finished."_

"And who are you?" Brother Wolf asked, his head tilting this way and that way, trying to glean the answer for himself.

_"I am Carbuncle, Guardian of Dreams. Are you lost, little Noctis?"_

When he nodded, it was Noctis, and not his brother. The little thing was cute, but it was more than that that made him trust it. Ignis would probably not be so fast to trust it, but its presence was calming, and it had saved them from the Will-o-Wisp. He also still had Brother Wolf, who could take over again if need be, but he didn't think there would be that need.

He followed Carbuncle through the empty forest that was no longer quite so empty, now that he had a guide. He never saw anything or anyone else full on, but eyes stared at them in the dark, and the whispers had gotten louder. The louder the whispers got, the faster Carbuncle ran, and so Noctis had to run faster too, to keep up with its tiny paws.

There was a moon, big, bright, and golden in the sky, a stark contrast to everything else that seemed to pale, faded, and dull, when they finally left the forest. Behind them, something, not a werewolf, howled. Something else screamed. Noctis shuddered.

 _"Don't worry, little Noctis,"_ Carbuncle's squeak said in his head, _"They can't hurt you now."_

Carbuncle didn't run anymore, but led him at a comfortable trot though the open field until, out of nowhere it seemed, a mansion appeared. It wasn't quite like the one he lived in, but similar enough that the sight was comforting, even when the front gates swung open for them without being touched.

Ahead of them, at the front doors, stood a girl. She was older than him, not as old as Ignis, but definitely older than him. She was pretty and cute, with blond hair and blue eyes, but her smile was the best. It was bright and earnest, and it matched her laugh when Carbuncle ran toward her. Her arms opened up wide, and the little creature jumped up to them. Noctis watched as she ran her fingers through that soft looking fur, and Carbuncle licked her face enthusiastically. After that, there was no question that he could trust her, and he didn't even know her name yet.

"Carbuncle says you're lost," the girl said when he got close enough. "And that you want to go home."

"Yes, please." The girl smiled again, softer this time, and Noctis bowed his head to look away from it. He wasn't sure if this girl could help him, but if a little cute animal who spoke in his head with squeaks could lead him to her, he was pretty sure it was possible that she might be able to take him home.

"What will you give me if I take you home?"

What would he give her? The moon out of the sky if he could, but, "I don't have anything to give you right now."

The girl's smile grew a little bit, "How about a favor then? Someday in the future, I'll ask for a favor."

That seemed fair, after all, he was asking for a favor now. "Okay."

"Then it's a deal!" The girl squeezed Carbuncle especially tightly before setting it back down on the ground. "Come on inside, Mom and Ravus aren't home right now, but I'll make you comfortable until the sun comes!"

It was a long time before the sun came, but the girl, Lunafreya (Luna), made it go by quickly. They talked, played games, and she even read to him, like Ignis did sometimes. They didn't eat, because even though Noctis _was_ hungry, Luna said that if he ate anything while he was there, he'd be stuck here forever. Noctis didn't understand, but there was a lot about this place, wherever it was, that he didn't understand, and so he just believed that if she said it, it must be true.

"I'm going to miss you, Noctis." Luna said when the sun began to rise in the sky and they could head back. "It was less lonely here with you."

"I'm going to miss you too," he admitted, truthfully. He hadn't been here long, but there was a bond as strong as the one he had with Ignis already there. She felt _right_ , and he smiled easily with her. He'd known all the people he went to school with longer than he'd known her, but their friendship was stronger. He wished they didn't have to be apart forever now. He knew that Luna would come to collect her favor someday, but that hardly counted as anything. "What if we got married?"

"What do you mean?"

"If we got married then we wouldn't have to be apart and miss each other right?"

Luna seemed to consider it. "But we're too young now."

Noctis nodded. That was true, but, "In the future then. When we're old enough. We'll get married and we won't have to be apart." Years later, he'd realize what a foolish and childish idea it was, but at the time it had made sense, and had conveyed a strength of desire that Luna agreed with.

"We'll need to definitely keep in touch then."

"For sure!"

She had laughed, soft and melodious, and took his hands in hers. "We'll write letters then. To make sure we're okay. How does that sound?"

Noctis didn't like writing. His penmanship was still sloppy, despite Ignis' efforts to correct it, but writing to Luna didn't sound so bad. He nodded his head. "Excellent. I'll write first, one week from today."

"Okay."

"Let's get you home."

It took some time. Noctis followed her around as he wandered to and fro in the field until she made a delighted "Ah!" and reached out for Noctis' hand. He took it the moment she offered it, and in three steps they were no longer in the field, but back in the woods. For a second, Noctis was confused, this wasn't home, but in front of them was Ignis, eyes wide in terror, and for once, Noctis could feel Ignis' emotions bursting in his own chest. Surprise, relief, and mind numbing horror.

"N-Noctis. Get away from her."

Noctis frowned. That was no way to talk to the person, (his friend!) who had helped him get back! "This is Luna! We're friends!" He stared up at Ignis' wide eyed expression, jaw set determinedly, "We're going to get married someday!" Ignis' terror in his chest doesn't lessen, in fact, it doubled, and beside him, Luna chuckled, her hand squeezing his before letting go.

"It's okay, Noctis. It's natural for him to be distrustful of my kind. Hopefully, in time, we can be friends too. Take care, dear Noctis." Her lips touched the side of his head, and then she was gone. The moment she was, Ignis took him in his arms, more tightly than Noctis ever remembered him doing before. He could feel Ignis tremble, but it didn't matter. He was back with Ignis. It would be okay.

It was then that Noctis realized that Luna _had_ taken him home. The mansion he lived in wasn't home. Ignis was.

* * *

He and Luna wrote weekly, as promised. They were small letters at first, only about half a page, but as time passed they got longer, with smaller writing, until they were pages long when he was fifteen. Ignis disapproved, clucking his tongue each time a new one came in the mail, but he never kept the letters from him, and never tried to stop him from writing them in return.

Brother Wolf was becoming a less prominent figure in his mind. Other werewolves always said that while the wolf wasn't "them" it was like a part of them. Until now, Noctis had viewed his wolf as a completely different entity, something that thought and spoke differently, but now independent thoughts were becoming rarer, and he was fading, becoming more the emotional responses that other wolves in the pack described. It worried him, and when he brought it up to Ignis, his caretaker had raised an eyebrow behind his coffee cup, and seemed to take an especially long time to lower it and reply.

"It's possible that your wolf was born fully grown."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Ignis sighed. "I mean, your wolf was thinking adult thoughts while you were thinking a child's thoughts. Now that you're starting to mature, your thoughts are blending more, making him seem less independent. Perhaps."

"Perhaps," Noct mocked.

"Yes, Noctis, perhaps. You are unique, and that means everything is just a guess with you. You can accept or reject my answers as you like."

Noctis didn't like being unique. He was unique _everywhere_ he went. At school he was rich and unapproachable. At home he was born and not made. Even Ignis put him on some sort of pedestal, like he wasn't something that Ignis could touch. He hated it, and he only felt normal when he read Luna's letters, and every week it felt more and more like Luna was the only one who viewed him as a person.

* * *

 

Luna visited the mansion for the first time when he was seventeen. He was ecstatic to see her at the door, his entire body feeling like it lit up with excitement at her face. She was older now, which only made sense, since he was older too. She was beautiful, and he knew he loved her, that smile just as bright and wonderful as he remembered. "I thought we might have a run of the town tonight," she said by way of greeting. "You seem so stressed in your letters. What do you say, Noctis?"

He said yes and shut the door behind him without a second thought.

They stayed out until three in the morning talking, eating, scaring people in their cars (the first time had been unintentional, but after that was it was a game. His father sent not Ignis, but young Nyx after them, and they'd been found at a movie theater, watching a late late night showing, but sending Nyx was a mistake, for when he found them, he only said, "Your pops said to bring you back safely. Didn't say when," before plopping himself down next to Luna, and finishing the movie, and another round of food, before finally bringing them back.

Both Noctis and Nyx got in trouble, but it was the best night Noctis would ever remember having in his youth, and that made it worth it.

Luna visited frequently after that, though they didn't spend anymore full nights out.

It was about a year after that when Noctis began to realize that he was broken. It wasn't just that he was born, or that he was a werewolf. He was almost nineteen. Not yet full-grown, but long after he'd hit puberty. He'd gotten all the proper talks about what would happen to him, and sure, some of them did, the physical changes in his body and voice, the rebellious attitude that made Ignis want to throttle him, but--

When he'd graduated high school the year before, one girl had been pregnant, and from all the gossip he'd heard, it was a lucky thing that she'd been the only one. Sex was something they craved. Werewolves he knew, fucked more like rabbits than anything else. It was a scent he could smell, the desire for it, the lingering scent of afterward, not just on wolves, but he'd smelled it in his class too. He ought to _want_ it by now. He ought to want it a _lot_ , especially with the smell around him all the time. He didn't, and at this point he was pretty sure he wasn't a "late bloomer." He was just broken.

It was embarrassing to go to _Ignis_ about it, who was beginning to not be a caretaker anymore, and was more a friend but, despite his not having the answer to everything about him, Ignis was the only one he felt he could go to. Ignis didn't fuck around like other wolves, never had, it seemed to his nose. He never seemed to want it with anyone he saw either, and so, despite the embarrassing nature of it, he hoped that Ignis would tell him he wasn't broken. That it was normal. Maybe, a little traitorous voice inside him said, that they were even alike.

He didn't quite do it.

"And you're positive?"

"Yeah." He couldn't stand looking at those green eyes staring at him from behind those glasses, and he looked away, biting his lip so hard he was sure it ought to bleed. "I'm sure."

"Come here," his voice had dipped down to be comforting, and Noctis went to him, crawling into his lap in a way he hadn't done since he'd still been a child, and he leaned his head against his chest, the sound of Ignis' calming heartbeat filling his senses. "It's all right," Ignis told him over and over again, his fingers carding through his hair. "You'll be all right. It's not a bad thing."

But Ignis didn't say he wasn't broken.

Eventually, Ignis told him something he hadn't even considered. "You'll have to tell Lady Lunafreya." Right. The woman he'd promised he'd marry one day. Of course she would need to know. The thought of telling her was even more terrifying than admitting it to Ignis, but he was right. He couldn't just not tell her, and it wouldn't be right to tell her in a letter. He waited until the next time she visited the mansion.

He had imagined that she'd be upset, or even disgusted by the news, he's expected it even, but instead her face had flooded with relief, and Noctis was left confused. "Thank the heavens above!" She had laughed, not at him, but in her relief, and Noctis was just at about the point of feeling insulted when she added, "I didn't know how to tell you my own truth."

"Which...is?"

"That I...like girls, and not guys."

"Oh." Noctis had blushed at that. "And...I'm definitely not a girl."

Luna chuckled. "No, you aren't."

"But, we're still friends, right?! I'm not going to lose you over this, am I?" The idea was devastating. She was his only real friend, his _best_ friend, the only one he felt he could truly tell anything to. He didn't want to lose her, to stop writing, to stop hanging out--

"Of course not. Who else am I going to tell about all the cute girls I see?"

This time, it was Noctis' turn to feel relief flood him, and a laugh bubbled past his lips. "You can tell me everything. I'm here for you."

"And I you, dear Noctis."

* * *

"It's not going to have vegetables in it, is it?"

"If you count potatoes as vegetables, yes it will." Noctis was tired and hungry after the full moon, and having Ignis invite him over for dinner was a pleasing idea. He could pass out on his couch and Ignis would cook whatever it was that he was planning to do after having been out of commission the day previously, and...yeah. It had been a while since he and Ignis had been able to hang out. They were close, more friends now than the nanny and charge they'd been when he'd been a child, but even without him to take care of, his father kept Ignis busy.

He missed that sense of home he had when he was with Ignis. He missed sitting in the same room with him for hours on end. He missed... "I miss you, Specs." He didn't miss being a kid with Ignis as his nanny. He didn't miss knowing that was so much bigger than him. He didn't miss taking orders from him or doing what he said. He didn't miss the childhood nickname of 'Little One' that had faded in his teenage years. He missed his smile. He missed the smell of him making coffee in the morning. He missed his sounds of irritation when he saw Noctis had done something reckless.

Perhaps most of all Noctis missed the sound of Ignis' heartbeat being close by.

Ignis was his home, his heart, (our mate, the wolf inside him liked to whisper, traitorously, no matter how many times Noctis reminded it that Ignis didn't want him, and he didn't _want_ Ignis.) and Noctis missed him when his father sent him off to do every which thing. It was one thing, to have Luna away in Insomnia, she had never been a daily companion for him, but missing Ignis was like missing an arm.

Ignis paused beside him, and smiled. Noct's stuttered at the sight of it. Happy and warm, and not looking at him like he was a child anymore. Not a child. Thank the gods. He was twenty-one now. Not a child, but dammit if the way his heart stuttered and fluttered when Ignis did something affectionate didn't make him feel the way he thought he should have felt when he'd been a teenager. "I've missed you to, Noct. Regis says things are starting to calm down now. I shouldn't be away so much."

"That'd make me happy."

"Me as well, more than you know."

Inside him, both his stomach and heart did little flips, and Noctis found himself looking at his own feet. Yeah. Like a freaking schoolgirl. He'd never felt like this about Luna. He loved her, but not like this. Not like he loved Ignis. Stupid. His own caretaker, his nanny. Wasn't it disgusting? No. Said the wolf inside him. Ignis had always been _his_ , and they'd always known werewolves didn't get older per se, him, of course, being the exception, but even he would stop aging soon. There was no reason, if he was compatible with Ignis that they shouldn't be.

Except that he was broken.

"Would you go wait down in the car?" Ignis was saying when he came back out of his own thoughts. "I wanted to borrow a book from my uncle, and I don't be back here for a couple days to get it."

"Sure thing, Specs." He smiled, shyly, and turned after hesitating a moment too long to be normal.

He was about ten paces away when he felt a crackling sensation inside his head simultaneously accompanied by Ignis screaming his name.

The next thing Noctis was aware of was a bed beneath him, and a trembling, warm hand grasping his own. When he opened his eyes he became aware of a sharp throbbing in his head that grew worse as light penetrated his eyeballs. He squinted his eyes, as though that would make the light easier to bear, and, after what felt like an eternity of throbbing brightness, he could see again, and he limply turned his head to look at who was holding his hand. It was depressing just how much energy it took to turn his head to look.

Beside him was Ignis. It actually took Noctis a second to recognize him. His hair was mussed as though he'd been in a windstorm. His face and neck were lined with small, half healed cuts and scratches, all of them small enough that they should have healed in minutes at the most, but the sheer number had probably slowed the healing down. Those two things alone were enough to make Ignis look vastly different, but the last was the kicker. His nickname giving spectacles were gone from his face. Without them...he looked like a kid, he looked like they were actually the same age, vulnerable and young. Just like him. Even through the mind numbing grogginess and lack of energy the thought that perhaps they weren't really all that different was heartening, but not for long.

"What happened, Specs?"

It took him a long moment to start replying, his tongue coming out to lick his lips before they parted and he took a deep breath. The answer that followed was surprisingly short and simple for the mental preparation it seemed to take. "You came into your magic."

Short and simple it might have been, but it was also confusing. "I thought I was past that age." Being witchborn wasn't something that had been kept from him, rather it was something his father had spoken of like most children, himself included, got the sex talk. When he'd been thirteen, his father had sat him down and explained that at some point in the next couple of years he might come into magic. It wouldn't be much. It never was at first. Witch magic needed to be fed with pain and energy, just having it wasn't enough. When/if he came into it, he would need to decide whether he wanted to nurture it or let it fade. His mother had nurtured it, and his father had let it fade, and his father had made sure that he knew there was no wrong answer, but that if he nurtured it, they had to be very careful.

"You have...an uncle, as we call him," his father had explained, "Who went too far long ago. We would not want you to become that."

He'd never come into magic, and his father had been pleased, rather than disappointed. It was less strife on him, he supposed. He was already "The Born." People still seemed to think he was some sort of messiah to werewolves, not that he often came across one outside the pack. He didn't need _magic_ to add to that legend, but now Ignis said he'd come into it - five years after his father had said he wouldn't.

"You appear to be what people would call a late bloomer," Ignis said with sadness in his voice. "Apparently with that late bloom comes...an incredible amount of power even without the rituals. I wouldn't have believed it myself, if I hadn't been standing there." The shaking of Ignis' hand in his seemed to increase as he spoke, and it hurt Noctis to know that the shaking was caused by fear. Ignis was afraid of him. Wait.

"Did I..." Fear blossomed in his own chest as realization hit him. Oh, Gods. "I'm the one to hurt you like this."

"You didn't mean to." That wasn't a no, and that meant intent didn't matter. Noctis wanted to kill himself. He'd hurt Ignis. It was the last thing in any world he wanted, yet here he was, Ignis covered in hurts that he'd inflicted. "It was rather like getting caught in an explosion. Part of the foyer will have to be rebuilt." He paused. "We couldn't stop you. You couldn't hear us, you couldn't control yourself, you weren't there. It was like you were a pitcher, and the magic just kept pouring out."

"When did I stop?" Ignis didn't answer, and kept on not answering, and that scared Noct even more. "Ignis?"

Another fortifying deep breath, and then, "I eventually got close enough to grab your ankle, and it just stopped." Three beats of Ignis' heart passed before he added, so soft, so terrified that Noct felt like his own heart was bleeding in his chest, "I'm afraid to let go of your hand."

Eventually, his father came and forced Ignis to let go of his hand. When nothing bad happened, his father then commanded him to go eat and get some rest, and Ignis fled the room so quickly that Noctis barely saw his blur as he left. "I think the magic has worn itself for a couple days, and that gives us time."

"Time for what?"

"To decide what you're going to do."

"About the magic?" His father nodded.

He didn't need to think about it. "It hurt Ignis. I don't want it." He and his wolf agreed. Their chosen love had been injured by their own self. It had to go.

"If that's truly what you want we'll send you somewhere to let it fizzle, but don't be so quick to throw it away. Ignis didn't die, and if the magic had wanted to, it could have made that happen."

"So what? This is what it does when it likes you?!"

He was angry, furious, but his father laughed at him, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Magic is a tool. It has no emotions but your own. You are the hand that controls it. One may not know how to use a hammer at first, but in time it may become their most valuable tool. We don't currently have a witch in our employ, and I know you've been looking for you niche in the pack. Magic could be fate saying this is it."

It was true that Noctis had been looking for a niche, rather than just being "the alpha's spoiled son," and it was this more than anything else that made him listen to what his father had to say. If he wanted to keep his magic, training was essential. His father knew he could find someone to teach him, and so that wouldn't be the problem. The problem was in the gaining and controlling of power. There appeared to be three options to him, a werewolf, where humans had one, aside from the fizzling. He could follow the traditional path and inflict pain on others, which would both give him the energy to power the magic, and the act of causing the pain would filter it, keep it tame. The problem with that was that no matter how you tried, if you kept doing that it blackened your soul, you began to enjoy it, and the very thought made Noct want to vomit.

The second and third choice were the choices his mother had made. She'd eventually taken a mate, and there had been no pain or sacrifice needed after that. "Like a glass," his father said. "We flowed together, and energized each other. We were big enough to handle it, together." That wasn't an option. Ignis would never agree, and he knew his wolf would never agree to anyone else. _Noctis_ wouldn't agree to anyone else. That left him with one choice, and it would still require Ignis.

"Have your most loved one inflict a devastating wound to you." The look on his father's face told him that once upon a time, he had been his mother's most loved one, and had done this to her. "A deep enough wound inflicted with silver that it will last years between the need to do it. The wound itself will filter and control the magic. The pain will power it. It worked for your mother for a very long time, but it is not easy. I would rather you take a mate. It does not have to be love." That was the first of many times his father would remind him that a mate did not need to be love.

It was the first of many times his father would be wrong. "Mating isn't an option for me." He was broken. So very broken, and even if Ignis wanted him, loved him, which he never would, Ignis deserved the best.

Ignis deserved someone whole, not broken, and only getting more broken by the minute.

"Then what will you choose?"

He couldn't look at his father's face. Not long ago the answer had been to fizzle. It was perhaps now the answer his father wanted him to take, but the idea of being useful to someone, to having a purpose other than being "born special," was too much to resist. "I'll take the wound."

His father's voice was thick, and Noctis could smell the salt of tears. "And who will inflict it?"

"It must be Ignis."

"Not Luna? Or me?"

His father wasn't insulted, he didn't think. No. His father was trying to spare Ignis' feelings. Noctis knew it would hurt him, a little, to harm his charge, but since he'd been born, he'd always been employed to provide services for Noctis and his father. This was no different. Ignis would see that. This was just his job. "Only Ignis," he whispered. "Don't tell him why it must be him." That would make it harder for him. Ignis was good, he had a good heart and a good soul underneath his sense of duty and brilliant mind. It would be better if he didn't know it was because Noctis loved him most.

"He's not an idiot, Noct. He'll figure it out eventually."

Noct didn't think he would, but if he did, "Then I'll deal with it."

An hour later Ignis was sent back to him. In his hands he held a knife. On his face was an expression Noctis could not read. "Have you ever touched silver before, Noctis?"

He shook his head. He'd been properly kept away from it all his life. The pack had a silversmith in its employ, and he knew they got a lot of money that way, but Noct never went near them. The smell of them alone was enough of a deterrent.

"Then let me show you." Ignis crossed the couple of steps it took to reach the edge of his bed, and then, without further warning, pressed the flat of the blade against his own palm. Instantly the place where the silver touched his skin began to smoke, and Noctis gasped, reaching out to stop him, but Ignis jerked back, out of his reach. After several more agonizing seconds, he pulled the blade away and showed Noctis the wound.

It still smoked a little, and blood was oozing up from the shine of what was going to be a very bad burn. The skin around the edges bubbled and blistered, and the entire hand, perhaps his entire arm, was bright red with irritation. "The bleeding and blistering will fade in a couple days, but the burning sensation and the wound itself will last weeks. You are asking me to give you a wound that will last years. You. Who I have known and raised, who I have..." Ignis suddenly became breathless and stopped for a second. "You will helpless for at least a week, not even able to walk. You will sleep all the time. You'll never...be normal again so long as you have this wound."

"I was _never_ normal."

"You know what I mean, Noct. You cannot tell me you are willing to do this just for magic. You could do so many other things. You are so kindhearted and talented--"

"But how many people get the chance I have right now?" Ignis didn't reply. "How many people are like me?"

"No one else is like you," Ignis whispered, his tone defeated, and Noctis knew he'd won their argument. It was perhaps the first argument he'd ever won against Ignis. Victory didn't feel good.

"Then let's go. Power has a price, right?"

"I think this price is too high."

In the end, Noctis agreed, but it didn't stop him from paying it again, and again, and again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you all are wondering what Luna's future favor ended up being, it was Noctis' help convincing the other fae that the meteor was a threat before it fell. It was a favor Noctis was happy to help her with.


	5. Heartbeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis never wanted to be a werewolf, but seeing little Noctis for the first time changed his mind. Ignis knows he's meant to watch and care for Noctis, but how is he supposed to care for a child who cries at the sight of him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> This is a day later than I had expected it to be, but here is the next oneshot. It's from **Ignis' POV**. It starts **One hundred and one years** before _Finding Home_ and ends about a year later
> 
> It actually has a **happy/hopeful** ending for once guys! I did a happy ending!
> 
> There is **no pairing** whatsoever in this chapter, and it's **totally canon** to the main story.

Ignis had been staring at his hands when he heard his uncle come into the room. He knew it was his uncle by the scent that filled his nostrils, rather than by looking up and seeing him as he would have just yesterday. Already, his uncle had cemented a place in his mind under the sweet smell of freshly mowed grass in the summer. He already knew that he'd never smell that again without thinking of Ignatius, it...was simply a fact.

It was also a fact that his uncle could have only come here to talk to him, and yet he couldn't bring himself to look up from his fingers, not until his uncle's hands enveloped his own, and brought them to gently clasp together. "What's so fascinating about your hands, Iggy?" There was something about the way he said it, a softness in his tone, perhaps, that told Ignis it wasn't an idle question, in fact, he didn't think Ignatius was idly here at all. This was a checkup.

He probably needed it.

Why was he staring at his hands? It really was a fair question, one that took him far too long to come up with the proper answer to. "They...don't hurt anymore."

"No?" Ignis shook his head, and his uncle's hands tightened around his own a little. "That does tend to happen when you become a werewolf and the arthritis goes away."

Ignis snorted "Your sarcasm is not appreciated, Uncle."

Ignatius laughed at that, and then squeezed their hands gently, before he finally released them and leaned back in his chair. "Your hands are still too warm though. The inflammation is probably still working its way out."

"It's fine." And it was. It had been a long time since he'd been without the pain, especially in the joints of his hands that seemed to make everything else ache too. If he still had some inflammation, it obviously wasn't enough to hurt against what he was used to. All the little scars he'd gained over the years were gone too. By the time he'd been thirty he'd needed gloves to cover all the small burns and cuts that had never faded, but now they were gone, and his hands were as smooth and supple as when he'd been twenty. "What do I look like?"

"Getting vain in our old age, are we?"

" _Uncle_." His reproachful tone only made his uncle grin, and Ignis sighed.

His uncle was a handsome sort of man. Tall and lean, his hair more a chestnut than the dingy, dirty, sand color his own had always been in his younger years. His eyes were a warm hazel color, accentuated by the equally warm smile that seemed to almost never leave his face. When he'd been young, people had sometimes mistaken him for his uncle, not wolves, but normal people, and they'd say that they looked alike.

Ignis had never seen it. He was perhaps as tall, but slighter, more gangly and lanky, his hair lacked luster, and he had his spectacles to cover half of his face, which all by itself wasn't unpleasant to look at, but he was _plain_. Very plain looking, very forgettable, even his eyes didn't have the decency to pick one color or the other. They weren't brown, and they weren't hazel. His uncle said they were green, as has some other people over the years, but they weren't No one's eyes were truly green, they were just a mishmash of different colors no one could properly decipher.

His uncle knew full well that vanity was not the reason for his question. He'd never had anything to be vain about.

"You could look in a mirror. Would you like me to get you one?"

" _Uncle_." His tone was getting less amused by the moment, and somehow still his uncle laughed at him, delight dancing in his eyes.

"Fine, fine. You look like...you? Younger now, obviously. I don't think you're done regressing yet." His uncle's nimble fingers reached out and turned his head from side to side. "Your...thirties, maybe? You'll stop in your twenties. Almost everyone does. You've just more to regress than most."

The years sort of blended together for Ignis, he couldn't remember what the difference between what he'd looked like in his twenties and his thirties was. He assumed all the wrinkles were gone, and the color was back in his hair. The lines under his eyes probably weren't gone. He was fairly certain he'd always had those.

"Most people would be very pleased to hear they're looking younger by the minute."

Ignis scowled, and his uncle smiled more. "You know this was never what I wanted."

"No," his uncle admitted, "It wasn't, yet you chose it anyway. I'll have you know that the pack the very curious as to what changed your mind." When Ignis focused on it, he could feel it, the numerous strings of the pack inside him all dully thrumming inside him with hasty curiosity. Currently, Ignis felt like he didn't owe any of them a proper answer, but Ignatius...he'd been the one to change him after he'd decided. He deserved an answer.

"It was the baby."

"Noctis?" Ignis nodded, and watched his uncle frown. "A two day old baby changed your mind?" Ignis nodded again, and his uncle quirked an eyebrow. "You're...going to have to explain this one to me, Iggy."

Ignis wasn't exactly sure how, not without simultaneously sounding crazy and like an idiot. "I saw him."

"And? I mean, he's a cute baby, Iggy, but--"

"Looking at him made me feel like I'd been struck by lightning."

Yes. There. There was the look on his uncle's face that he'd been expecting, confused and more than a little bit concerned. "Like you had an epiphany? Or...?"

"No, more...literally." If Ignis ever had to describe what he thought being struck by lightning felt like, he'd describe the moment he looked into that's baby's eyes. It went from his head, to his toes, and everywhere in between. Sparks had lingered inside his blood and he'd known; If he did not stay by this child's side, he would die unfulfilled. The rest of his life until that moment had meant nothing. His life, his skills, his accomplishments meant nothing if he couldn't use them to help this child be...whatever he wanted. He imagined that it was what mother's often felt like the moment they first laid eyes on their child, but it wasn't. It was...

 _More_.

Regis had come to him months and months ago now, while he'd been training his apprentice, and had told him Aulea was pregnant. He'd told him Aulea would have the child and then die. Ignis hadn't been pack. He'd been, at best, a tolerated and valued servant of the pack, so, naturally, he'd asked why he specifically was being told this. Regis had informed him with a very straight face that Aulea wanted Ignis to become a werewolf for the child, him, very specifically _him_. _"She Saw that you're the baby's soulmate."_ Regis had confided in him. _"She wants you to live long enough for that to matter."_

He had laughed at Regis then, knowing the idea of one soul fitting perfectly with another was an absurd fairytale, but now he wasn't so sure. Thinking rationally now, he shouldn't have done it anyway, even with that feeling coursing through him the idea of any sort of soulmates was ridiculous, especially for a man like him, and he should have stuck to his ideals and remained human. The lightning in his veins had pushed him to yet another rash decision, one he knew he would quickly regret. In fact, even looking back on that moment he regretted it. The child would never feel any sort affection for him. Even though Noctis was only two days old, this was simply a fact.

"I'm not going to ever be able to understand what you mean by this, am I?"

"No, Uncle, I suspect not."

He heard his uncle sigh, and then the chair moved as he got up. "Have you eaten yet? Since the change?"

"Not yet."

"Then you need to. Come on." The monster that now lived inside his brain and heart growled at being told what to do, by a submissive, no less, but Ignis mentally beat it back with a book to its nose. Ignis was in control here, and his uncle was only trying to take care of him. The monster needed to settle down.

His uncle fed him an ungodly amount of food, and then simply proceeded to drag him to bed, his bed. In all his years of life Ignis had never slept in a bed with someone else, not a sibling, a lover, or simply out of necessity, but he slept curled up next to his uncle that night, and he fell asleep to comforting fingers in his hair, and his voice saying that he hadn't made the wrong decision, and that he was glad Ignis was here to stay with the pack.

When he woke from a deep, dreamless sleep in the morning, he found that he loved the feeling of a body next to him in bed, but he also knew he would rarely experience the warm, comfortable feeling it provided. He knew he would still wake up alone for the rest of his life. It wasn't a thought that made him happy, but, he realized as he pushed himself up and out of his uncle's bed, he wasn't meant to be happy. He was meant to make _Noctis_ happy.

"Is it morning already? I _very much_ do not want it to be morning." Ignis smiled at his uncle's muffled protests from underneath the bedspread.

"Unfortunately, Uncle, it is _very much_ morning, but you can stay, if you like. I should head down to the smithy." He also needed to go back to his house and change his clothes before he did it. He was still in his rumpled clothes from the day before, and Ignis did not like not feeling pristine and presentable.

"No," his uncle groaned. "I still have things I need to ask you for I can let you leave."

"Orders from Regis?" The Ignatius sized lump in the bed made a motion that Ignis was fairly certain was a nod, and with an affectionate sigh, Ignis sat back down. "Then why don't you ask now?"

Ignatius only paused for a second before he carried on. "I'm supposed to test your memory. Ask about your childhood up to...recent times? Sometimes memories get lost in the change, so we need to ask."

"How specific do I need to be?"

"Not overly? Just enough so that we know you remember."

Ignis nodded, and then lay back on the bed, on top of the covers. The Ignatius lump shifted and moved until they were as close as they could be while the bedspread was between them. It was odd, how...not odd Ignis found his uncle's touchiness. He'd always known that werewolves were touchier than the average person, but he'd never seen exactly how much until now. He'd never found that he craved or found comfort from it...until now. Now it felt like he needed it, as though his very emotions and self worth balanced on the edge of how much other wolves touched him. It was a scary thought, and he focused his mind on telling his uncle of his childhood, such as it was.

"I was the youngest of four," he began, and his uncle nodded into the curve of his shoulder. "My father was a silversmith, my mother's family were merchants, and with their marriage there was a sort of...merging of the two. I had one sister, who was married off when I was still a child. I remember her little, except when she and her husband visited during the holidays. My brothers were trained to take over the opposing sides of the business. The eldest was trained as a merchant, and younger as silversmith to head the jewelry side of the business."

"And you?"

"I was the middle of all three. I stood to inherit nothing, but I was trained in everything, yet also knew I would be married to a financially suitable bride when the time came. I accepted all this, knowing that no matter how hard I worked, I would never amount to anything in my parent's eyes, yet...I tried all the same. I don't think they ever loved me, I was an unexpected child, born late in their lives, and they never quite accepted that I was theirs. I was raised more as an apprentice than their son. I found it as a fault in me, and not in them."

"It wasn't, but continue."

"They waited until I was twenty-one to announce I would be married in the autumn. It wasn't something that excited me, but I didn't hate the idea either, until I met her."

"Did she have a name?"

Ignis chuckled. "Of course she did. Aranea Highwind, of the Highwind Sailing Company. I liked that she was smart, strong, and would certainly be capable. I hated that she bullied everyone around her and was eleven years my junior."

"Ten." His uncle clucked his tongue. "I hadn't realized she was quite so young."

"Her parents were eager to be rid of her and her strong willed being. They thought a husband would "right" her. I think they were very wrong, but my parents saw a business opportunity and took it. I wouldn't be allowed to consummate anything until she was at least fourteen, but we would live together. That was the plan anyway. I quickly found that I could not live with the plan."

"Oh?"

He could hear his uncle smirking, and he disapproved of it, but he continued on anyway. "The first time we met, I had barely said hello before she kicked me in the shin with her pointy boot and told me that if I didn't shut up the next time it would be between my legs, I still had the bruise on my leg the day she threw a cup of scalding tea in my face and poured the rest of the pot in my lap. I don't remember what my _infraction_ that day was. I only remember the burns.

"My parents refused to break the engagement no matter how I reasoned with them, and I had already decided on leaving when I received your letter."

"And what did my letter say?"

Ignis couldn't recall the exact words, though, somewhere in his house he had the letter carefully tucked away, faded and worn as it was. "You called me your dear nephew." No one had ever called him dear to them before. No one had since. "You told me I could come here and find work with your friend's business, if I found my life there so untenable."

"And you came."

"I _ran_." He hadn't known much of anything about his uncle. He knew they purposely had similar names. Ignis inspired by Ignatius, his father's long gone brother, who had sailed across the sea in hopes finding a cure for his sickness that no one had never had a proper name for. His father had known he'd found the cure, if not that the cure was becoming a werewolf, and knew that he'd opted to stay here, instead of coming home. How ironic that the son he'd named for that brother had wound up doing precisely the same thing.

"The rest is fairly simple, I suppose. I came here, started working for Regis, eventually figured out what you're all werewolves, and continued on. I never married, never fathered any children. I eventually developed the arthritis and took on an apprentice."

"Do you know what happened to Aranea?"

"Not really," Ignis confessed. "I followed it for a while, what happened back home, but after a point no one knows what happened to her. She went through three more fiances, all of which put up with kicked shins and tea burns about as well as I did, and then her parents sent her to girl's reform school, which she apparently ran away from, and then stole a ship from the harbor. No one knows anything after that, but I suspect she was happier that way than she would have been with the path her parents chose."

"The wild sea probably matched her wild spirit. It was probably what she wanted from the start."

"Perhaps." The sad thought was that he would have given it to her, if she'd asked and he'd been able. She probably thought she had to be mean and aggressive, but she hadn't. At least not with him. Perhaps he would have even run away with her to the ocean. It wouldn't have been love, but it would have been freedom, and that was more than most people got in their lives.

They lied there in silence for a moment before Ignis snapped himself out of reverie. "Was that enough of an answer?"

"More than," his uncle chuckled. "You seem to have handled the trauma of the change very well so far."

"Let's hope it continues that way." Ignis slipped off the bed again and stretched. It felt good, almost too good. "I promise I'll eat something for breakfast before I head down to the smithy."

"Iggy."

"Yes, Uncle?"

"Wouldn't you rather go see Noctis?"

That was simultaneously the thing he wanted yet dreaded the most. The dread in the pit of his stomach increased with each step he took toward the child's nursery, and yet, when his uncle opened the door, he still stepped inside.

Regis had put the nursery on the side of the mansion that overlooked the back of the property, and you could see all the late summer roses, and the deep green leaves that were just starting to prepare for fall through the windows. The sunlight filled the room with warmth, but Ignis felt nothing but a cold chill as he walked past the wet nurse to the cradle where Noctis lay.

He really was a cute baby, with a shock of black hair and deep blue eyes that seemed to take in everything around him. Ignis smiled to see the child, but the moment their eyes met, Noctis' face scrunched up, and he began to wail, fat little tears running down his face. He continued to wail until Ignis was gone from the nursery, his heart pounding in his chest. That had been the same thing that had happened the day before. He'd felt like he'd been struck by lightning and that he'd found his purpose in life, but Noctis only cried and screamed at the sight of his face.

"Come along," Ignatius said tugging lightly at Ignis' wrist. "We'll try again tomorrow."

They did, and Noctis screamed bloody murder at the sight of him again, just as he did the day after that, and the day after that.

By the end of the week, Ignis knew Noctis was not going to stop crying. The child he so irrationally adored was repulsed by the very sight of him. He still went back to visit the child every day.

It eventually began to become a habit, he'd slip into the room in the morning and linger in the corner while the wet nurse went about caring for Noctis. He'd watch, and wait until, inevitably, Noctis would look over to his corner and start to wail. The sound was always a blade right through his heart, and once he started to cry, Ignis left the room. He stopped crying once Ignis was gone, and with a sigh, Ignis would go down to the smithy, or do whatever task Regis had decided to give him.

Regis wanted Ignis to be Noctis' primary caretaker, but it was obvious that this wasn't possible while his son screamed at the sight of him. "Don't worry, he'll grow out of it." Ignis didn't share his alpha's certainty, and by the end of the year, even Regis had begun to have his doubts.

"I think you need a break."

"Uncle," Ignis said, quirking his lips. "I'm sitting down."

"That's not what I mean, Iggy, and you know it." Ignatius pulled out the nearest chair and settled down next to him, cup of tea in hand. "For one thing, I think you need to stop going to the smithy. That boy of yours has learned all he can from you, and I think the silver atmosphere is making you ill."

"It's fine." His uncle probably wasn't wrong. Werewolves were supposed to perfectly healthy, but Ignis usually felt queasy for several hours after being down there, and occasionally bumping into something made of silver was practically unavoidable, and he had the residual burns to prove it, but it gave him something to do every day that wasn't waiting for a child to break his heart over and over.

He watched his uncle's lips form a hard, disapproving line. "I'll talk to Regis if I have to. I think he'll agree with me. Everyone can see how pale you are and the dark circles under your eyes have only gotten worse." Neither Ignis nor his wolf liked the subtle threat, but he also knew Ignatius would do it too. He could order his Uncle to keep quiet, but someone higher in the pack could undo it, and he wouldn't force his uncle to do something he didn't want to. It would cause unpleasant feelings to fester, and he wanted his uncle to be happy.

"I'll cut back," he compromised. "Three times a week for a while, then I'll cut back more."

"I'll accept that. For now." His uncle sighed. "It's not just the smithy though. It's the babe too. You're running yourself through a ringer with that child."

"All I do is stand in the nursery."

"And wait for someone you love to cry at the knowledge that you exist. That would whittle away at anyone's spirit, Iggy. You should take a break. I've already spoken to Regis about this one. He's going to set up a hotel room in town for you. Go eat someone else's food for a couple days. Read one of the books you keep meaning to. Go to a club, learn the current dance all the kids are doing, find a one night stand. Anything, Ignis. Anything but staying here and torturing yourself over someone who can't speak a single coherent word. Maybe when you return, something will have changed."

Ignis highly doubted it, but when Regis told him to go, he went. He'd never done very well with being idle, but he went anyway, ate food, sat in a bar he couldn't drink at, and stopped several children from robbing him. He didn't feel any better for the doing so, but he did it anyway, and when he returned to the hotel he fell into bed and didn't even get so far as pulling his book from his suitcase before he passed out.

In the morning, he was awakened by the sound of knocking at his door, and when he opened it, a bellboy informed him that there was a call for him at the front desk.

The fact that he had a call at all was surprising enough, but the who he heard when he got to the phone was even more so. "It's Noctis!" The wet nurse said on the other end. "He won't stop crying." It was true, he could hear Noctis' wails distantly in the background.

"And what do you expect me to do about that?" Ignis asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm usually the cause of his tears."

"Please, Master Scientia," The nurse begged, "We've tried everything, literally _everything_. Your presence is the only thing that's changed. Maybe if you come back, he'll stop."

"I very much doubt that," Ignis hissed into the phone.

He went back anyway, the now familiar dread curling restlessly in his gut as he went. The truth was that Noctis would have probably stopped crying between his leaving and his arriving, and it was quite possible that he'd only make it worse if he hadn't. Regardless, Noctis' caretaker had asked for him, and for Noctis, Ignis would rip himself in two if he had to.

He heard Noctis' cries long before he actually got to the nursery, and when he pushed open one door to slip inside, the wet nurse was trying to tempt him with a stuffed cat. The toy was immediately taken and thrown with considerable force across the room.

Then their eyes met.

The crying got worse, but it was a different sort of cry than Ignis was used to. He had heard this cry before, but never from Noctis. Children cried this cry when they wanted their mother and someone was keeping them away from them. Noctis was crying this cry now, his tiny hands reaching out toward him from across the room. Before he knew he'd done it, Ignis had crossed the distance and was lifting him out of the nurse's grasp. Those little hands grasped at his shirt as he tried to settle him in his arms, and his head sank willingly against Ignis' chest, Noctis' ear resting directly above where his heart was. Listening, Ignis realized instants later. The boy was listening to his heartbeat.

The crying stopped almost immediately.

In front of him, the wet nurse sighed in relief, her hand coming up to her chest as it heaved. "I'll go get you a warm bottle." She wove around him and out of the room, and when Ignis heard the gentle click of the door he looked back down at Noctis. The babe gazed back up at him with wide, inquisitive eyes, his ear still pressed tightly against his chest to listen to his heartbeat.

It was time for them to trade places, and it was Ignis whose tears fell down his face, and sobs emanated mutely from his lips. "Hello, Little One," he whispered, his voice cracking as he spoke. "My name is Ignis, and I was put on this planet to ensure your happiness."

It was such a whimsical, abstract thought, when he spoke it aloud, but in that moment, he was more sure than ever before that it was true. As true as his heart beat in his chest, he was here to make sure Noctis was happy, no matter what that meant for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who are probably wondering, YES, the feeling of lightning in Ignis' veins is the same feeling that Prompto and Gladio felt when they first saw each other. So, in the story, when Ignis instantly sent Gladio away after they met, he knew exactly what they felt like, and knew what kind of rash decisions it might cause.
> 
> Though, Regis describes it as "soulmates" to Ignis, and Gladio interprets it as "this is my mate," the feeling is not actually meant to be necessarily romantic, but more "Fate's at the door and refuses to be ignored."


	6. Barista

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto has been working as a barista for years, but only recently has he come to have a least favorite customer. That least favorite customer's name is Ardyn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Once again I am a day late in posting this one! Apologies!
> 
> This chapter is the first, and probably one of maybe only a couple I'll be doing from **Prompto's POV** , since the main story is in his POV, and it is the events leading up to Ardyn's taking him. It takes place about **a year** before the start of _Finding Home_.
> 
> This chapter is **canon** to the main story, and has **no pairing**. The ending to this chapter is **not a happy one**.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Prompto Argentum considered himself to be a lot of things. A university student, a dog lover, an amateur photographer, a fan of all things chocobo, a lover, and not a fighter... The list went on for miles, but, when he did his taxes every year, he wrote down "barista" under his occupation. So, Prompto supposed that at this core, that was what he was - a barista.

Prompto didn't dislike being a barista, it didn't pay great, but the hours were pretty flexible, allowing him to work a couple of other, smaller jobs to pay for his apartment. He liked people, and you definitely dealt with a lot of people when you were a barista. Some of them were assholes, but Prompto found that if you smiled at them and listened, you could improve their day. Prompto liked improving their days, and unlike the other baristas he worked with, he didn't mind making those super complicated orders with extra foam.

Of course, in the future, he wanted be to able to sign his taxes as a professional photographer, or perhaps even as an engineer, or a tech guy. There were so many things that Prompto loved, that he knew that coffee couldn't be the end of his journey. He knew of so many people that went to college just for what their parents wanted, or what they thought was a good idea, and not what they were passionate about. He also knew a ton of people who simply didn't know what they wanted out of life, and knew that even if they did, they couldn't have it. Prompto knew what he wanted, he had choices even. His problem was the funds.

On television, most kids had money stashed away for college, their parents had started saving for it the moment they were conceived, and money never seemed to be much of an issue. At least for Prompto, that wasn't how real life worked. He was adopted. He'd been so young at the time that the distinction didn't really matter beyond what blood records would say. Again, on television adopted children were beloved, cherished by parents who couldn't have their own. They were loved as much, if not more, than a blood child. Again...not how real life worked. The older he got, the more Prompto wondered why his parents had ever even adopted him in the first place. Tax cuts perhaps, appearances, peer pressure. Whatever it was, it wasn't love. There was working a lot, and there was working all your life away, and his parents were the latter. Their jobs required them to travel a lot, and Prompto imagined that for other children this might have meant a lot of travel themselves, or moving, or home schooling. Not him.

Money itself hadn't been an issue. He'd had a card, it was linked directly to the account, he could buy whatever he wanted. As a child, this had been thrilling. No bedtime, anything he wanted for dinner, never had to do anything he didn't want to. It was in middle school that he really kind of figured out that he was alone, overweight, and unhappy. He changed his lifestyle, became more dedicated to school, lost a lot of weight, felt healthier, but he was still alone.

In his senior year, he figured out he was going to be even more alone once he graduated. He knew he wanted to go to college, he even knew what he wanted to go for, but when the councilor asked how he was going to pay for it, the truth had been that Prompto hadn't any clue, and all his attempts to contact his parents for help or advice failed...that was answer enough. Just as he had been all his life, he'd was on his own.

The year after, the debit card he'd gotten from his parents had expired, and he hadn't received a new one. By then, he'd already gotten scholarships, loans, and two jobs, and Prompto knew it had been the right call. He was eighteen, and his parents considered their duty to him fulfilled, even though they'd never really been there at all. For a couple of years, it had been almost unbearably hard, between classes, classwork, and work just keeping his head above water was a 20 hour a day thing. He had not done well on 4 hours of a sleep a night.

It had truly become easier since he'd taken on the job as barista. The boss was nice, and let them study during slow times, as long as they kept up with the cleaning, it paid better than any of the jobs he'd had before, Prompto didn't feel so alone, having the regulars to talk to, and the other baristas to compare notes with. There was nothing _easy_ about it, and he didn't want it to be forever, but at the end of the day, he was happier being a barista than he had been at any other point in his life.

Except when that guy came in.

Prompto dealt with assholes, people who were having bad days, and the girls who ordered the complicated drinks just to take pictures and post it up on social media. He dealt with them with a smile on his face and the best customer service of any of the baristas who worked there. He was even willing to step in when jocks and gamer boys overstepped their bounds with the lady baristas and started asking for numbers or making inappropriate comments. Until this guy, Prompto had felt like he could have dealt with any customer, even the creeps, but there were creeps, and then there was _Ardyn_.

The worst part about Ardyn was that you couldn't put your finger on what the hell was wrong with him. He wasn't impolite, not really. He always ordered the same thing, a vanilla latte with extra vanilla, which wasn't even that complicated. He always paid cash, the change, along with an extra dollar or two was shoved into the tip jar. He never stayed to drink his latte, always took it to go. Really, he ought to be considered an above average customer to deal with, if all customers acted that way and tipped that well, Prompto might not need the other jobs in his life, and his stress levels would go down.

There was just... _something_ about Ardyn that made his, and everyone else's, skin crawl. Perhaps it was the drawl in his voice that wasn't an accent, but more like an outlook on life, or perhaps it was the way his eyes looked at you like you weren't really a person, but more like a disposable NPC in the video game called Life. Perhaps it was the way he leaned against the counter watching your every move when you made his latte. Perhaps it was even just the odd, dated, and mismatched outfit he seemed to wear every single day. Whatever it was, it made Ardyn undeniably creepy and hard to deal with.

Prompto had the "honor" of being Ardyn's favorite barista. In fact, according to the other baristas, Prompto was the only barista Ardyn would deal with. When he was there, he was always called over, and when he wasn't, Ardyn would walk out without buying anything. Somehow that made it even worse, and Prompto dreaded those moments when the bell to the front door rang, and he heard the other barista on duty call for him. He still did his best to serve Ardyn with a smile on his face and a pep in his step, no matter how put on it was.

"You're in good spirits today," Ardyn commented one day in midsummer, when most people were drinking iced coffees and frappes, rather than piping hot lattes.

"Just doing my best to make sure you get the experience you deserve," he said in his best, least fake, customer service voice, happy that he was able to keep the disgusted tremble out of it.

"I admire your dedication." The words were accompanied by a chortle that made Prompto's stomach do flips, and...not in the good way, but he swallowed, and continued to smile until he was able to hand over the vanilla latte with extra vanilla.

"Have a great day! See you next time!"

"Ah, yes, hold on a moment, Prompto." Hearing Ardyn say his name was not a good thing. It was true that they wore little name badges on their aprons, but even so, the idea that Ardyn knew his freaking name was...disconcerting. "I've had a thought."

Oh no. "What kind of thought? Is there something else I can get for you?" Prompto sincerely hoped that that was all it was. He was going to get an extra drink, or thought he might change it up next time he came in, anything other than what he knew in the pit of his stomach was coming.

"One of your coworkers recently graced me with the information that you're quite the avid photographer. While it's true that I'm not interested in hiring a photographer, I would absolutely love to look through what kinds of pictures you like to take. Perhaps over...dinner?"

Yep. There it was. He was being asked out on a date, oh, in quite a more smooth manner than most of the guys who hit on the girls did, but the very idea made Prompto want to run for the bathroom and throw up in the porcelain bowl. The answer was a _very_ hard no. "Uh...thanks, but, uh, I'm...really not looking to get into a relationship right now. You know, busy with school, and working all the time, just...bad time in my life, you get what I mean?"

To his surprise, Ardyn didn't turn violent, or get upset, or even frown. Instead he smiled a little wider. Somehow, that was even worse. "A shame, but I understand. Until next time then?"

"Yeah. Next time."

The next day Ardyn came back, and ordered his normal drink. He didn't bring up the day before, and Prompto felt like he could breathe again. A spurned Ardyn was the last thing he wanted to deal with, but at least it seemed he would be spared that.

Things continued as normal for about a week. Almost every day Ardyn came in for his latte, and almost every day Prompto tried to avoid even making eye contact with the man.

On Friday, Ardyn didn't come in, and Prompto didn't work at all on Saturday. Two whole days without the creepiest customer to ever walk the earth seemed like a vacation to him, even if he did have to haul his laundry down to the laundromat that evening.

In all honesty, the hauling of two big laundry bags and all the quarters he had to cough up were the worst parts about doing laundry. Prompto liked the smell of the soaps and the heat of the dryers. He liked the hum and waffling sound as the machines went round and round. He liked the soft chatter of people who came down to the laundromat every week and talked like old friends. He liked that he could study, and watch people, and feel some of the anxieties of his life melt away. All in all, Prompto found the laundromat to be a safe space free of judgement and hardships, odd as that sounded even in his head. There was only you, the washing machines, and people who also wanted to wash their laundry and go home. Nice. Safe. Quiet. Prompto happily came down here for his biweekly washings, and that night was no different.

He left in the dark of night, looking forward to putting his freshly washed sheets on his bed and crawling under them after his shower.

Unfortunately, such a simple pleasure wasn't to be. He'd only gotten halfway through the park that was between the laundromat and his apartment building when he heard the growl. It didn't quite sound like a dog. Prompto loved dogs, but he wasn't stupid, a dog not properly trained, wild, or even trained to be vicious was a dangerous thing. You normally didn't run into such things in the city, unless you went looking. Most of the loose dogs Prompto had ever encountered ran the moment you got within twenty feet, but Prompto still knew what a dog's growl sounded like, and while this was similar, this wasn't quite it, which made it infinitely more terrifying.

He looked around, trying to find out where the growl was coming from so that he could very specifically avoid that place. His terror increased tenfold when he heard the growl again, this time directly behind him.

Trembling, Prompto turned, and what he found wasn't a dog at all, but what had to be a giant wolf. At least two hundred pounds of wolf. Red wolf. Wolf like he'd never seen wolf before, not that Prompto had ever truly seen a wolf in person before, but in pictures, he'd seen. He knew. Gold eyes that glinted in the moonlight met his own, lips drawn back in a snarl that felt like it could stop his heart. The monstrous wolf chuffed, and Prompto immediately dropped his laundry and ran.

It was a futile effort, despite all the running he did, the wolf was on him in seconds. It knocked him to the ground, and Prompto screamed as its claws dug into his back, jaws biting into his shoulder. It hurt like nothing else had ever hurt, ever could hurt, and he screamed even louder, knowing that this late at night no one would be in the park to hear him. This was it, he thought as the wolf viciously turned him over, and he lifted his arms to shield his face, as thought that could protect him at all. This was how he died. Killed and probably eaten by a monster wolf in the park, and no one would even know he was missing for at least two days. He didn't want to die. He had so many things he still wanted to do, but here he was. He had no chance of surviving this. He could already feel himself bleeding out into the concrete.

The beast's maw dug into his belly, and the pain became too much. He passed out.

When Prompto awoke, it was with a gasp of air that a movie actor would be proud of. He sat up with a start, trembling, vibrating out of his own skin. The wolf! It was gone. No matter where he looked, he couldn't find it. Was he dead?! He ached all over, and every little sound was too much. He could smell his own blood, still wet on his skin, but he was breathing. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. The sky above him was still black. It was still night. He was alive. But how?

He sobbed as fear, shock, and pain overtook him, arms drawn around his knees. What had happened? Why was he still alive? What did it mean?! No answer came to any of these questions, instead, an owl hooted somewhere in the park, and Prompto flinched at how grating the sound was. He needed to get out of here, before the wolf came back, and he wasn't so lucky this time. Ignoring the protests of his body and shredded, bloody clothes, Prompto sprung to his feet, grabbed his abandoned bags of laundry, and ran back to his apartment with them. The bags felt light as feathers in his grip, but he assumed that was the adrenaline. It wouldn't be terribly long before he figured out that he was wrong.

The next morning, he woke up on his unmade bed, the crinkly feeling of falling asleep without properly drying his hair after a shower filling his head. Morning light didn't make the events of the night before feel any less horrifying. For nearly an hour he curled into his dingy mattress and cried, wishing he could forget, wishing he could know why he was alive. Not that he didn't _want_ to be alive, but he _shouldn't_ be. He should have died on that concrete, that beast's jaws eating his intestines, but he lay here. Alive. Breathing. Not dead. He should be grateful, but all he felt was fear. It meant something.

Not something good.

He screamed into his hands when something not himself inside his head agreed with him.

Prompto couldn't afford to keep much food in his fridge and cupboards, but he ate all the food he had. All of it, even that last packet of ramen that had expired nearly a year before. The _thing_ inside him kept demanding more, even when he ran out of things to feed himself. More. _More_. More. He trembled and shook, and accidentally tore the cabinet door off its hinges. He cried again at that. He'd barely touched it, he swore. Yet everything seemed light in his hands. He confirmed it by lifting up his mattress as though it were no more than a gallon of milk.

A monster. The thing that had attacked him had been a monster, and now he was too.

He couldn't afford to blow the money, but he did. He spent almost every dollar he had on more food that the monster inside him demanded and on a lot of alcohol for himself. He spent the rest of the day avoiding the food and downing the drink.

No matter how much he poured into himself, he didn't get drunk, he didn't even get buzzed. When all the alcohol was gone, Prompto dragged himself to bed, tear-stained, hungry, and entirely too sober.

Prompto seriously thought about calling into work the next day, but it was Sunday, and it was the coffee shop, and he couldn't leave them hanging, even if he was a monster now. He dragged himself off to work, vowing that he wouldn't break anything like he had broken the cabinet at home.

His coworker greeted him with her normal pep and smile, and Prompto knew that she couldn't see the monster he'd become, like he could feel it. To her, everything was normal, and it made it all seem more normal to him too, and it helped him get through his day. It was toward the end of the day when Ardyn came in for his daily latte, and he pushed his way through the event as he did every day, trying to get through it as quickly as possible. It wasn't until he was actually handing the cup over that he realized Ardyn was giving him a _look_ , and Prompto couldn't stop himself from crinkling his nose. "Something wrong?"

"Oh, no," Ardyn said, the look quickly fading as he took his latte. "I just didn't actually expect to see you today. With your studies and all."

Prompto quickly shook his head. "Nope. Having two days off in a row would be like asking for a miracle. Just yesterday, and even that was a blessing." Or a curse, depending on how you looked at it. He wasn't sure he could have gone into any of his jobs yesterday, but perhaps if he'd needed to, it would have been a better distraction than not getting drunk on enough liquor to kill a man.

"A fair statement, I suppose," Ardyn hummed as he took a sip from his drink. "Well, I'll be seeing you later then."

"Yeah. Next time." Normally, Prompto was able to keep a smile on his face until Ardyn was long gone, but today he was barely out the door before Prompto's lips twisted into a frown. He smelled wrong, the monster inside him said. He smelled very wrong.

The rest of the day went without incident, and Prompto made his way home just as the sun was beginning to set. Naturally, he took the long way around the park he had once enjoyed walking through. Maybe one day he'd be able to walk through it again, but that day was certainly not today, and instead he ducked across several streets to get home and do schoolwork, even though all he really wanted to do was fall back asleep and try to forget that he was different now.

Once again, such simple things were denied him.

His now super nose picked up on a wrong smell just outside his apartment building, and an instant too late he connected that smell with Ardyn. It was too late because Ardyn's hand was already curled around his upper arm, and no matter how he tugged, Prompto could not pull out of his grasp.

"I truly did not expect you to survive our little incident in the park the other day," Ardyn hissed into his ear. "I hadn't actually meant to harm you, but, full moon and all that." Prompto could hear the smirk in his voice, and, as though he could foresee where this was going, he struggled against the hold Ardyn had on him even more. He was stronger now, but Ardyn was stronger still. In one one motion, Ardyn twisted, and Prompto felt his shoulder pop out of its socket in one sickening sound and an explosion of newfound pain.

"Since you did survive though, dear Prompto, it seems that it falls to me to teach you how werewolves work." Werewolf, his brain dimly processed. That was the word for what he was. A creature of myth and movie. Still a monster. "You'll be coming with me."

Prompto fought, and then Ardyn taught him why not to fight.

It was less painful for him if he didn't resist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, hovering over the "Post Chapter" button: "Do I really want to try and ruin everyone's love of coffee shop AUs like this?"
> 
> Me, clicking the button: "Yes, yes I do."


	7. Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis has been kidnapped. It won't be as easy to keep him as his kidnapper thinks it will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I didn't write this one until recently, when I realized it was actually going to at some point be relevant/brought up. In fact, I think that even in all my rambling about things to my Future Wife, I've only ever brought up the events in this chapter once.
> 
> Anyway, this chapter takes place about **forty years** before the start of _Finding Home_ , it is **canon** to the story, and it is **not necessary** to read this to understand the main story.
> 
> The ending is **happy** , or at least as happy as it could be here. There is also **no pairing** , minus, you know, that pining for Ignis that Noctis keeps on doing.
> 
> Please enjoy!

Waking up in the back of a car with silver plated handcuffs restraining him was a new experience for Noctis. He wouldn't say it was a good experience, but new was definitely a good word for it.

His back ached something fierce, far worse than it normally did this late in his cycles when all his wound was was healing scar tissue and Ignis was working himself up to being able to do it again. His head ached too, which was unusual, and slowly, Noctis began to put together the floating puzzle pieces in his head. He'd been struck from behind. He didn't really remember it, but it was the only logical explanation, all things considered, and Ignis did try to impress upon him to be logical about things. He didn't always take Ignis' advice, but sometimes, like right now, it was important.

Whoever it was clearly knew he was a werewolf too, considering the silver handcuffs. They weren't pure, only plated, but that was enough prevent him from simply pulling and forcing them apart. It wasn't enough to burn deep through his skin, but was enough to slow the healing of his head, aggravate his back, and physically weaken him. Harm, but not greatly harm. Which meant that they didn't want to greatly harm him. That was a weak point for them, because Noctis was really going to harm them.

It was about this time that the car hit a pothole, and Noctis jostled, and began to sit up and try to figure out who was driving. Another weak point on their part; they hadn't put him in the trunk.

The man driving the car was none other than Titus Drautos. "Oh man," Noctis said, chuckling as he leaned back to look at Drautos' profile, a smirk on his face. "Specs is gonna be _pissed_ when I tell him I was right." Drautos had been the source of a small disagreement between them for years. Two decades, actually, since the older werewolf had joined the pack, shortly after the death of Ignis' uncle. It wasn't that Drautos and Ignis were close, but more that they had a similar way of dealing with shit. They were closed off wolves who didn't freely share emotions, needs, or locations, the difference between them being that Ignis _would_ share, if it felt it good or right, and Drautos _never_  shared. His mental wall was impenetrable, and Noctis simply didn't trust him.

 _"He's allowed to be a private person, Noct. Not everyone is you or Ulric."_ He couldn't count how many times Ignis had told him that, but it never made a lick of difference, he didn't trust it, and look, he'd been right not to. He was so going to rub it in Ignis' face when he got back.

For his part, Drautos seemed to be dedicated to not answering his jab, which Noctis admitted was probably smart, but, in all the movies kidnappers spoke tons to their victims. "You know, Nyx, Crowe, and Libertus are gonna be really upset about this too." Libertus wouldn't be privy to details, he was human, but he, Nyx, and Crowe were all thick as thieves, with Drautos as the fire captain, and something of a mentor to them. There were others in the fire company, Pelna, Axis...those other guys. It often seemed like half the pack were firefighters, and the other half was quickly starting to become cops, with Cor at their lead. Sometimes it felt like his father was raising an army of civil servants, which, while appropriate for his father, made Noctis roll his eyes. "Nyx is gonna have to take over as fire captain. He'll burn down the entire area." Okay, that _probably_ wasn't true. Nyx was probably an excellent fireman, who...happened to be one of those firemen with a little pyromaniac in them. Nyx had a moral compass though, so...it'd probably be fine. Probably.

Drautos still wasn't talking to him, and Noctis rolled his eyes high to the sky before he focused his energy on trying to figure out how to unlock the handcuffs. It was gonna take a small but very intricate, delicate, controlled magic to do without Drautos noticing. Noctis wasn't good at intricate and controlled magic. Noctis was much better at "making things go boom." That was just the way magic flowed through him, big and loud, and dying to get out and _kill_ something. It was why he didn't do healing. He'd probably fry the person he was trying to save rather than help. Ignis, he thought, if Ignis were his mate and had that magic flowing through him, would be his other half in this. Ignis would control and refine. Ignis would heal and save. Not Noctis. It was going to take a lot of concentration to unlock the handcuffs without Drautos noticing. He also couldn't be too quiet, or Drautos would notice that too.

"Specs is gonna kill you, when he finds you, you know." Most people didn't think of Ignis as his father's executioner. They thought of him more as his surveyor. He was sent out when problems with other packs or sometimes other supernatural things came to his father's attention, and he took care of it or reported back. When it was magical in nature, Noctis was sent along too, since Ignis couldn't stand up to that alone. Most people just saw that he left and came back, and sometimes he was injured, but it was usually minor, and he always healed. They didn't see that surveying often meant that someone had to die, and that the killing fell to Ignis. They didn't see how Ignis looked covered in someone else's blood, and they didn't see how efficient and deadly he was with the knives he kept strapped to him at all times, usually hidden when at home, but out and easily accessible on a job. Cor saw it, Noctis thought, but then Cor, while very young, was already earning quite the reputation himself. His father was starting to send Cor out on surveys in Gralea, ones that fell within his patrols. It made Ignis' life a little easier, and for that Noctis was grateful. "He'll make it slow. Probably just take out your kneecaps first, eventually slit your throat."

"Your little babysitter won't even know you're gone until it's too late."

Noctis snorted. "If you don't think he already knows, you're more stupid than I think you are." Sure, it was dark out, like...dark. It was probably almost midnight, and normally Ignis might have already headed home, but it was late in his cycle, and Ignis understandably got very nervous during that time. He'd probably already checked in to make sure he was at least going to try and sleep, to make sure his magic was still under control, and had found that he was gone. He'd probably already gone to his father and told him to hold off on a search. Ignis was probably already hunting.

Noctis allowed himself to be distracted for just a moment thinking about what Ignis looked like when he hunted. Serious, poised, beautiful. He looked like was a spring coiled so tightly that it would release at any moment, and his prey never stood a chance. Noctis could watch Ignis hunt all day, yet never be tempted to touch, to break that spell. Drautos was in trouble, not that Noctis was waiting for Ignis to catch up. He wasn't a princess in a castle tower. He could save himself, but throwing Drautos to Ignis later would be _very_ satisfying.

He felt his magic thumb at the mechanism inside the handcuffs, only for it to snap away like a rubber band against his skin, and Noctis had to stop himself from making a face at it. Yeah. Delicate magic just really wasn't his thing.

"So where are we going anyway? Rival pack?" Not that his father really had any rival packs. His father's pack was the cream of the crop, and everyone else had to settle for less. That didn't stop other packs from occasionally trying to knock them off the mountain. It was always pesky when it happened, but that was the general nature of dominant wolves. They always wanted to be at the top.

Drautos had clammed up again, and Noctis sighed. "Don't be like that, if you're gonna kidnap me, you gotta tell me where we're going. It's like...the rules."

"The _rules_ ," Drautos mocked.

"Of course. Like maybe normally I'd think you were keeping me for yourself, but I know you're straighter than a razor blade. Or maybe I'd think you were doing some sort of ransom thing, but money's not an issue in our pack. So you gotta be taking me somewhere. To someone."

Drautos still didn't answer him, and Noctis huffed before turning the full brunt of his concentration on his magic. About ten minutes later he felt, but thankfully didn't hear, a click, and he knew that the moment the time was right, Drautos was going to regret betraying the pack.

He needed to find out where they were going first, to prevent this from happening again. That was what Ignis would say, and right now, Noctis was definitely listening to the little shoulder Ignis in his head.

It wasn't long before they reached the depths of Gralea, not the nice part of Gralea, where businesses flourished, but the rundown section, where graffiti was rampant, and if he were human, Noctis would honestly be worried about getting an infection from the smallest scratch. Drautos stopped outside an abandoned warehouse, because of course he did, and got out of the car to make a call from the phone-booth.

The moment Drautos was out of the car, Noctis was pulling the handcuffs off properly. The task caused a few more minor burns and blisters, and dammit if he wasn't going to have bracelets of blisters for days, but they were gone, and already Noctis could feel some of his strength seeping back into his bones. Trying not to make too much movement or noise, Noctis shimmied himself up in his seat and pressed his ear to the window. Drautos was close, close enough that normally he'd even be able to hear both sides of the phone conversation but with two panes of glass between them the voice on the other end was a muffled rasp of nothing, and Drautos himself was scarcely a whisper.

One side of the conversation was enough. He caught a place, a time, and a name. It was the name that gave away the game and made Noctis' blood run cold. Ieoldas. It wasn't a name he'd heard often, but it was a powerful enough that even Noctis remembered it. Ieoldas Aldercapt was the master of the South Gralea seethe. Vampires and werewolves did not mix, not out of a rivalry as movies often depicted, but because of a clash. For a vampire, werewolf blood was addicting and enhancing, and for a werewolf, a vampire's gaze met head on was practically a death sentence, a bite was even worse. Despite the fact that most vampires and wolves didn't bother each other out of some unspoken pact, it wasn't rivalry, it was practically hunter/prey, with werewolves being prey.

Drautos was working with them. The very idea made bile rise into Noctis' throat and he had to swallow it back down. No. He had to be strong. He had to end this here. He had to make sure Drautos didn't do this again.

Subtly, he scrambled to grab the handcuffs again. The burn in his skin was still painful, but it would be a lot more painful if he let this continue. Grasping the chain tightly in his hands he settled back into a captive position as Drautos hung up the phone and came back out to the car. He did exactly what Noctis was hoping he'd do, he opened the door Noctis was leaning against, doubtlessly thinking he was going to drag him out by the scuff of his neck like a wolf cub, and hand him over to whichever vampire would be here to collect him in a matter of minutes.

Just as he'd wanted, Drautos had underestimated him in the same way most people did, when they were used to him being seen with Ignis. It wasn't a mistake Drautos would be able to make twice.

He let himself fall backward as the door opened, and he smirked up at Drautos just before he let his free hand reach out and grab his captor's arm. He got the momentary pleasure of watching his face go from smug, to confused, to surprised before Noctis reached inside himself and unleashed the destructive sort of magic he was far better at it.

Even drained by the touch of silver it was a devastating force, and it felt so satisfying. Being electrocuted wouldn't kill a wolf, but it was painful and debilitating. The force of the shock propelled Drautos back into the phone booth so hard that the glass shattered, and Noctis took his chance while Drautos was down. He didn't make any noise when the handcuffs clicked around his wrists, but it didn't matter. As much as he'd not been able to get out of them without magic, neither would Drautos. It would drain and hurt him all the way back to the suburbs. That too, felt satisfying.

Headlights pulled up around the corner, and Noctis braced himself to have to face a vampire. Fire, he told himself, fire was the best weapon. The car lights turned off, and the door clicked open, and a familiar sage-fire scent reached him just before his voice did. "Noct!"

"Specs," Noctis breathed, not even bothering to resist the temptation to run into his beloved arms, enveloping himself in that scent, and pressing his ear to his chest, taking in his calming heartbeat. "I knew you would come for me."

"Are you quite all right?" Ignis arms, strong and safe rubbed his back, and Noctis bit back a sob as a wave of what had just happened really washed over him. He had almost been handed over to vampires. He would have been enslaved. He eventually would have died. He never would have seen Ignis again. It was terrible. He would properly deal with it later, but for now he had Ignis in his arms, and he relished in the fact that everything would be all right.

"I'm okay now. I'm okay. Let's just go home."

"With our traitor, of course." The air between them was cold as Ignis drew back from him and withdrew one of the knives he currently had strapped to his thighs. Yeah, Noctis thought with a smirk, Ignis had definitely been hunting.

"It was Drautos."

"I'd already figured that out."

"He was gonna give me to vampires."

That made Ignis stop for a moment, just beside the man before kneeling down next to his still mostly out of it form. "How _generous_ of him," he whispered, and that was all the warning they got before that knife was driven straight into Drautos' left kneecap. This time there was a sound of pain, and Noctis winced.

"I...did also tell him you'd start with the knees."

"How astute of you." Ignis stood back up, drawing the knife, covered in blood, back out with it. "But it's just going to be the one knee. I'll let Regis take care of the rest." Noctis winced again. It took restraint to last that long, but his father, while calm and fair, when riled was the most vicious of them all. If Noctis had thought Drautos would suffer under Ignis' hand, it was _nothing_ compared to what his father would have done to him.

Ignis all but threw their bleeding prisoner into the back of his car, and then cycled his way back to Noctis, his face soft and comforting as he ran his fingers through his hair. "You must be starving. I don't think anything's open right now, but I promise I'll make you whatever you please when we return."

"It's okay," Noctis said, his own heartbeat finally starting to truly calm down since the moment he'd woken up in the back of Drautos' car. "I can eat in the morning. Let's just go home."

He relished in Ignis' soft smile for a moment before he heeded his hand urging him back to the car. "Home it is."


	8. Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis knows his pack no longer needs him, but perhaps there is one more thing he can do for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! 
> 
> Let me explain a little about this chapter. This chapter is the chapter that made me decide I needed to write _Summer Home._ This point in the story has been a very fixed point since the idea that I was going to write a Part Two to _Finding Home_ came into my head.
> 
> When I started thinking about it there were only three things that were set in my mind about it. One: Prompto was going to find a dead body. Two: Luna was holding a grand party at Midsummer. Three: This chapter, but this chapter couldn't be from Prompto's POV, only Ignis'. I considered it very important for my readers to at least have the option of reading this event from Ignis's POV, and that led to "Hey, if I write this scene, why not give them insight into their pasts and other things that won't necessarily come up in the main story?"
> 
> So here we are.
> 
> This chapter takes place **directly before the end of chapter twenty-four** of _Finding Home._ It ends **unhappily** , and is 100% **canon** to the main story.
> 
> There is **no direct pairing** to this chapter, but there is mention of Promptio, and Ignis definitely loves and pines for all three members of his pack.
> 
> I would say it's fairly **necessary** to read _Finding Home_ to fully understand this chapter.
> 
> Please enjoy.

"Head on out, Coctura."

"Are you sure?" The girl's wide eyed gaze reminded Ignis of how young she really was, and he allowed himself a small smile for her. "I can stay for at least another half an hour if you need me."

"No," Ignis shook his head, and made dramatic hand motions toward the door. "You'll want to be there when your uncle gets off the plane. You don't get to see him very often, now do you?" Coctura shook her head stiffly. "Then go. I know what it's like to be close to an uncle. You need to cherish the time you have now." It was especially true of them, who would both be human. They had a very limited amount of time together, as life was short for them. Even when it wasn't, it was over too quickly. Ignis would not have Coctura missing out on quality time with a loved one just because he had a fledgling business to run. She was only eighteen, but to Ignis who had lived so much longer, her time was already running out.

He watched with a mild sense of satisfaction as joy grew on her face and bounced on her heels before her senses seemed to return to her, and then she bowed, not deeply, but enough to show a sense of formality and respect he didn't often see in today's youth. "I'll be in tomorrow for the early shift, promise! Uncle's fishing tournament isn't until three, so I can stay until two!"

Ignis smiled, and wanted to tell her that she could take the day off instead, but the sad truth was that he needed her here. The best he could do was, "I won't have you staying a minute after noon. I can take over from there."

"Really?!" Ignis nodded. "Thank you so much! I'll work extra hard!"

"I'm sure you will. Now go on." Coctura only hesitated for a moment before she bolted out the door, and Ignis sighed, the feeling in his chest fond. Coctura was his best worker, and also his youngest. She was passionate about food, and some days Ignis thought about getting out the paperwork and signing it all over to her. He knew that she wanted to own a restaurant someday, after all, it would be good to give her a head start. The problem was that Ignis also knew she wasn't looking to own a little cafe in Insomnia's suburbs. No, Coctura wanted to eventually move out to Galdin Quay and open a seafood restaurant, using the freshest of fish from the sea. It was an idea that Ignis had no doubt was inspired by the uncle she loved so much. Coctura hadn't mentioned him by name, just as much as Ignis had rarely called his own uncle by name, but she talked all about how he was a world famous fisherman.

Ignis wondered if Noctis knew who he was, after all, there was little Noctis loved more than fishing.

The very thought of Noctis was sobering and painful. It tore the smile right off his face, and Ignis locked the cafe door before he turned to finish cleaning up the cafe.

When Noctis had first come home to tell him that he'd bought a building and business for Ignis to run, he'd been touched. It wasn't often that Noctis thought about him beyond the simple fact that he existed and was there. The idea that he'd bought an entire building for him to do with as he pleased, that he'd bothered to think about him that much had made Ignis immensely happy for a time. He had poured his everything into it, not wanting to let Noctis down, wishing to please him, and show that his investment wouldn't be in vain.

Now, months and months later, Ignis knew the cafe for what it really was; a corner to shove him in so that he wasn't a bother. It had taken a century, but Noctis had finally outgrown him. They'd _all_ outgrown him. It had taken Prompto for it to happen. Despite all his abuse, the boy was sunshine in a bottle, and they had all taken to him instantly. It was nearly impossible not to. Even Cor had been fond of him when they'd still been at Regis' den, and Cor was loath to show fondness of anyone. He'd fit himself into their lives instantly, and he'd made Noctis and Gladio grow as people. He'd watched it. The extra little bit of effort Noctis pushed himself for, the soft gentleness Gladio realized he still had inside of himself. They grew, the three of them, and Ignis had loved it. _He loved them._

But he didn't grow under Prompto's sunshine.

He was a stagnant person. He'd finished growing and changing long ago. There were no new facets to his being to discover. He was who he was, and the simple fact was that his beloved pack had surpassed him. They didn't need him anymore. The cafe allowed them to be kind and not tell him so, but also allowed them to move on without him. They'd shoved him here, and showed him that he wasn't required at home any longer. They did the cooking now, the cleaning, the laundry even. Prompto had found a lovely detergent that smelled even better than his own concoction. They simply didn't require his presence.

That morning had been the final proof he needed. They even tell him things anymore. He'd once known when all of Prompto and Gladio's dates were, so he could plan to be out accordingly, and there had once been a time where if Noctis had needed to be somewhere, he at the very least would have wanted a ride. Now he didn't even know until a change in his own plans had caused them inconvenience and discomfort.

The cleaning done, Ignis slid into one of the small cafe tables, his laptop, fountain pen, and paperwork that he'd been planning to push off until tomorrow out in front of him, and a can of Ebony in his hand. The little clock in the corner of his computer screen said it was just after six. Prompto and Gladio would probably just be starting their date about now, and if he were to give them time to themselves at the den, he would need to remain here until at least ten, maybe eleven. Noctis, with his current level of energy, and his love of Luna, would probably be out until at least midnight.

The traitorous little voice in his head, not the wolf, but the part of himself that refused to not be petty or selfish, told him that he should just stay here all night, and not go back to the den. A test of sorts, to see if they would even notice his absence. He didn't need to test it. He knew they wouldn't miss him at all. They wouldn't even notice he was gone until he returned.

 _So why are you even alive?_ The little voice asked. _Why don't you head down to the piers and just jump in? If they won't miss you one night, they won't miss you at all. They'd be better off without you interrupting them._

It was a bad line of thought, Ignis knew, but he also knew the voice was right. He shook his head. Not yet, he told himself. If he were to do that, he'd properly leave the pack first. They didn't need him anymore, but they were still good people. They'd be upset if they knew he'd died. Better for him to leave, and for them to never find out what he did after that. That would spare them the pain.

With another little shake of his head he pushed the rash, isolation driven thoughts from his head and hunkered down over his work. One of his tenants upstairs had asked for an extension on her rent. Her name escaped him, as did the names of all three his tenants from time to time, but she was the lady who lived in apartment three. He honestly tried to ignore his tenants. They weren't tenants he personally had signed leases with, and he knew better than to try and be personal with them. It better for him to stand back and take care of their needs and complaints when they arose, and mostly remain anonymous.

Even anonymous, he knew that the lady in apartment three was the kind of little old lady who was bent over with arthritis and age, whose voice warbled at the best of times, and baked burnt-to-the-point-of-inedible cookies that she inevitably forced into your arms on your way out the door. He also knew she was the type of little old lady who would croon and talk for hours about her children and grandchildren, the very same children and grandchildren who never came by to visit. He had already resolved to make sure she had pastries and a gift basket at her door for the winter holidays, because, yes, he was just _that_ pathetic, that if his pack didn't want him to take care of them, he'd take care of whoever he could.

This was the third time she'd asked for an extension, since he'd come to own the building, but Ignis suspected she was one of those on a shaky sort of payment schedule. She always paid her rent in the end. Before he left, he'd go put a note up on her door saying that the extension was granted. He didn't think it was enough to make her happy, but it would at least be a relief.

Behind him, the door opened, and Ignis stopped all motion. He swore he'd locked that door. "My apologies," Ignis began, turning in his seat, without bothering to set down his pen, "But we're closed for the evening."

"Well then, it's a good thing that I didn't come by for coffee and scones." His voice was condescending, but it felt like velvet on his ears, and much the same could he said about his looks. His hair was well taken care of, yet scraggly, his clothes, clearly well made and expensive, yet clashing and worn. Even his face screamed it, his eyes tired, his facial hair not yet a beard, yet also clearly more than a five o'clock shadow.

Ignis had never seen this man before in his life, but he knew who he was instantly. This man was Ardyn Izunia. It was the jaw, an idle bit in the back of his brain told him. He, Regis, and Noctis, all had that same jawline and the same sort of crinkle to their eyes.

Ignis had always thought that if he ever saw Ardyn he'd be overcome with anger. Ardyn had tortured and murdered his uncle, after all, and, more recently had tortured and abused Prompto. Both of those things were abhorrent and extremely personal to him, and he wanted Ardyn to pay for those wrongdoings, as well as the innumerable other things he'd doubtlessly done. He'd always thought his feet would propel him forward, his very being charged and furious. Instead, something else entirely took over his body. It was fear. His every instinct screamed at him to turn tail and run. His wolf rather agreed with that idea, run, now, while you still can. You can't win if you die here. He will kill you.

Yes. He could see it on his face. Ardyn was here to kill him. He would kill him. Today. Tomorrow. Next week. Next year. He would be first. Then would be Gladio. After that would come Noctis and Prompto, in whichever order Ardyn decided would cause the most pain to the other, but Ignis was first. Ignis knew he _could_ also be last, if he played his cards right. Running now would not be playing his cards right.

Ignis knew exactly what he was doing when he remained seated. He was signing his own death warrant, but he hoped that he was also saving his beloved pack from the same fate.

Ardyn smirked at him, taking several careful, purposeful steps toward him. With every step the stench of blood increased, and Ignis fought to keep his face straight, fought to continue looking Ardyn straight in the eyes. "I'm not sure whether to call you brave or foolish, Ignis."

Ignis suppressed a shudder at the way his name fell off Ardyn's tongue. It was like oil to water. "The two are often one and the same."

"True, true," Ardyn drawled. "I'm sure you're aware of why I'm here today."

"You are here to kill me."

"Correct," Ardyn smiled, and it was not kind. Ignis could feel the Touched nature of his soul through that smile. Too old. Too alone. Too magic. Too much. "But do you know _why_?"

"Because I belong to Noctis. Because I share a pack with Prompto."

"Both of those things are true," Ardyn acquiesced, bowing his head in a mocking show of congratulating his correct answer. "But do you know why you're _first_?"

The answer fell from his lips instantly, "Because I am the least important." It had nothing to do with his position within the pack. Being second meant little among the four of them. Noctis was first, Gladio was last, and Prompto didn't even fall in the scale. In a bigger pack it meant more, but for them their interpersonal relationships meant so much more. Gladio, Prompto, and Noctis were equal amongst themselves, and it was him that didn't fall on the scale any longer. "My death will hurt the least."

"You are a smart one, aren't you? But then, I already knew that."

Ignis narrowed his eyes. "I assume you've been watching us."

"You assume correctly," Ardyn took a couple more steps forward. Just a little more, Ignis thought. He was almost within lunging distance. "For quite some time, actually, me or someone I've told to. Turns out, I didn't need to do all that watching. This evening here would be more than enough proof. The lovebirds are out making gooey eyes at one another, and your precious alpha is off laughing with his fae best friend. Where are you? Here. Alone. Unprotected. Unloved. Un..." Ardyn quirked his head to the side. "How long has it been since you were touched? Werewolves need to be touched and loved to the healthy, after all. I believe you've said something along those lines more than once. You seem the teaching type."

It was sad to say that Ignis did not have to wonder how long ago it had been. He had been hyper aware of his increasingly brief and infrequent brushes of physical contact with his pack for a while. The last time he'd been purposely touched had been last full moon, before and after his change. There was no love or care in those moments. It was simply Noctis did. The last time he'd been touched at all had been only a week after, when Prompto had knocked the mug of tea out of his hands. If there were no love and care in Noctis' last touch, Ignis could say he'd felt Prompto's disdain for all Ignis did in that motion.

It was not enough to support a werewolf's healthy mindset. He could purpose physical affection himself, of course, ask for it, but the others did it so naturally with each other. It was clear that they simply did not want to touch him, and he would not ask for something they did not want to give.

That alone made Ardyn right in coming for him first, not that he'd doubted it before. He was emotionally their weakest link.

"Don't feel like answering the question?"

"I do not."

"That's fine. I'm sure you get the point." Ardyn smiled again and took three more steps forward. It still just wasn't _quite_ enough. "If it's any solace to your soul, I think they made a mistake in making you least among them. Your intelligence is refreshing. Your sense of duty and loyalty...well, I think I've only once seen its equal." The mad wolf smirked. "It was many years ago now, but he had a face quite like yours."

His uncle. For the first time, the boil in his blood he'd initially expected rose, but he tamed it, let the ice over the top remain. He could not let his emotions get the better of him. Could not. Would not. "I'm glad you remember Ignatius."

"Oh, I remember him well, dear Ignis. He wasn't the best of fighters, but he certainly had the heart. Never told me a thing, except how much he felt I ought to go fuck myself. I suspect that you'll go the same way. Mostly silent and loyal, sparing your pack as much pain as you can."

"Not quite," Ignis admitted softly.

"Oh?" Ardyn finally came into his space, his hands touching the table behind Ignis as he leaned over him. "Then tell me, how do you intend to go?"

Ignis responded by jamming his fountain pen right in Ardyn's left eye.

Ardyn moved back too quickly for Ignis to manage getting the pen all the way through the eye and to the brain, but the yowl of surprise and the hiss of pain were enough for Ignis to know he'd gotten his _point_ across, quite literally. Instead of waiting for Ardyn to pry the pen from his eye, Ignis jumped from his chair, fumbling to get toward the kitchen, heart pounding in his chest. There were knives back here, but they couldn't cause much more damage than his fountain pen had. Instead he flung the pots and pans from their stations, creating a cacophony of noise as they fell and bounced, and he hid himself behind the stove, pulling his pant legs up and withdrawing the knives he kept there.

They were old, and the blades were silver. He was always careful not to touch the blades and to keep them in their coverings. They were the last remaining relics of his human life that he'd kept for himself. They were quite effective against werewolves, just as much as the iron of the pointed hilts were effective against fae. They were deadly, and he had not made them for himself, but he'd kept them all the same, and he'd used them many times in service to Regis. They were the only chance had.

The last of the clatter stopped, and Ignis held his breath as the silence grew. Before it began to feel uncomfortable in his lungs, he heard Ardyn's footsteps reach the kitchen, accompanied by his dark chuckle. "Now that wasn't very nice, Ignis! I thought we were really starting to bond there! One reject to another!" He kicked a pot, probably hoping that it would startle Ignis, but he remained silent and still, listening to those footsteps grow ever closer. "Since I am such a nice guy, I'll give you one more chance. Come out, and I'll kill you quickly, only your despicable pack need suffer your death."

The not breathing was becoming extremely uncomfortable at this point, but at last Ardyn's footsteps paused right in front of the oven. Ignis pounced. One knife was aimed at his gut, and the other toward his head for the strike he knew he'd need to actually take Ardyn out. He only needed an instant. Just an instant to get his knife through the skull.

He didn't get it.

The sensation quite felt like someone had taken one of Noct's fishing hooks and twisted it behind his navel. It was painful and more importantly paralyzing. He kept trying to move his muscles, trying to get his knives to move toward their intended targets, but nothing would move. He was trapped in his own body, scarcely breathing as Ardyn's hand found its way to his throat. His eyes taking in the gory, bloody hole that now Ardyn's left eye, and the pinkish magical glow of his right. "Painful it is," Ardyn hissed.

Ignis still couldn't move as he was thrown back into the dining area, his prone form knocking into tables and chairs. Idly, his brain wondered if this was how Prompto had suffered, not just knowing fighting would hurt more but if he had been truly made incapable of fighting back. Some niggling part of his mind told him no. Ardyn probably liked the struggle. He probably only did this to people who showed a genuine threat.

His wolf found it in himself to be proud at that. They'd die knowing that they'd done what they could, and that Ardyn had found them dangerous.

Ardyn wrenched one of the knives from his grasp. "These are quite the treasure, you know. Well made and dangerous to more than one kind of supernatural being. To think that you wore them on your being day in and day out knowing that at any moment they could slip from their sheaths and burn quite the hole in you. It seems I quite underestimated you, Ignis. I apologize for that." For a moment, Ardyn paused, and then laughed, "Ah, of course, you can't answer anymore. Silly of me. Would you like to know how you're going to die? Of course you would." He laughed again, and he knelt down so that their faces were close enough together that if Ignis could move, he could have bitten his nose and scratched his face.

"I like to think that there's a certain amount of poetic justice in the world. You stabbed me in the eye, and further planned to strike me in the skull with such dangerous daggers. Furthermore, your very name has a certain amount of heat to it, now doesn't it? We'll go with that." Ignis watched as Ardyn willingly placed a finger to the blade. It smoked at the touch, but if Ardyn felt the pain, he didn't show it.

It was only when the metal began to glow a faint orange-red that Ignis realized what was about to happen. "They say that eye for an eye makes the whole world blind," Ardyn cackled, "But I find that I'm just fine with that." The silver melted all at once.

For an instant that was an eternity, Ignis knew nothing but a universe of pain.

Then the universe ceased to exist.


	9. Maybe Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis hasn't been himself lately, they stumble on why by accident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY WEDNESDAY!
> 
> So I'm going to start off by warning you all that this is the first chapter that is **NOT CANON** to the main story. This chapter is what happened when I got to a point in **Chapter 24** and realized that if I kept writing without Ardyn showing up as planned, this is what would have happened. It's honestly a little frustrating because I really liked where this was going without Ardyn, but his showing up was definitely also needed, and a major plot point.
> 
> I liked where it was going so much that I wrote it, and this is the result.
> 
> This chapter would take place at the beginning of **Chapter 25**. The ending is **happy** , and it's **really kind of necessary** to have read the main story to understand exactly where they are.
> 
> The main pairings in this chapter are **Promptio** , but it ends with the beginnings of an **OT4**.
> 
> Please enjoy. <3

When they got home, Ignis wasn't there, and instantly Prompto felt his lips turn down into a frown. "I really thought he'd be home by now." That's what Ignis had said. An employee had last minute plans. Ignis was closing up shop. He'd be home early.

"Probably stayed at the cafe, so we could have time to ourselves." It wasn't that late, really. Prompto knew Ignis had come home later than eight-thirty before, but when he'd made a point of saying he could be home early enough to make them dinner like he used to...it was late. Ignis shouldn't feel like he had to stay away from home more than he had to just for them. They could make due some other way for "alone time." Ignis didn't get enough "home time."

"I'm gonna text him."

"Okay," Gladio went to put Ignis' cheesecake in the fridge while Prompto set about texting him. It was a little sobering to pull up Ignis' name on his screen and discover that it had been almost a month since the last time he'd sent Ignis a text. He resolved to do it more often. Maybe he'd start sending daily cat videos, even if cats were more Noct's thing.

Prompto, 8:32 pm: _Hey, we're done. Come home._

Prompto frowned at his own text, gnawing on his lip and tapping his toes while he waited for the response. His texts weren't normally so cut and dry. Normally he embellished them with emojis and chat-speak, but this one even had proper punctuation. He wondered if Ignis would pick up on that, and then, when the response came less than a minute later, he wondered why he'd even wondered.

Iggy, 8:33 pm: _Is everything all right? It's quite early yet._

Prompto sighed. Yep. Yep. Daily cat videos it was. Honestly, it was something he should have thought of before now. He set his tongue between his teeth and set about sending a "Proper Prompto Text."

Prompto, 8:34 pm: _nope we r gud._ :thumbsup: _just come home now plz?_ :chocobo: :heart: :poutyface:

Prompto felt pleased with himself for that one, and he could practically hear Ignis sighing when he opened it up. The reply was almost instant.

Iggy, 8:34 pm: _On my way._

"Mission complete!" Prompto proclaimed, striking a victory pose for Gladio to laugh at, which he instantly did.

"You're such a dork," his boyfriend said, as his muscular arms slid themselves around his waist from behind.

Prompto hummed in satisfaction, leaning himself back into the embrace and then pushing himself up onto his toes to kiss at Gladio's scruffy chin. "Sure am. I'm _your_ dork."

Gladio laughed again, softer, more a chuckle this time, and Prompto felt him lean forward so that their faces were more on the same level. "I wouldn't want it any other way."

It wasn't quite the truth, and they both knew it. The truth was that they'd like for everyone in the pack to belong to one another, beyond the way they did now. They wanted to have date nights not just with each other but with Ignis and Noctis too. They wanted to kiss and hold Noctis, and they wanted to drag Ignis off to bed with them. They wanted to say "I love you" to them, and for them to say it back with fond smiles on their faces. They (or maybe just Prompto on this one) wanted to adopt a cat with Noctis and call it "Their Baby," and see how he blushed, but also didn't argue, because it was _totally_ their baby.

They wanted to be four, and not just two. They were quietly able to admit that to each other in tiptoed words, but Noctis and Ignis couldn't even admit that they were in love with each other, and had been for a long time. They'd decided to hold off on a larger conversation, for now.

He'd told Noctis at several days ago now that he needed to talk to Ignis, but Prompto knew he hadn't yet. The pack would have shifted if he had, but it remained the same. Prompto sighed softly at the thought, and Gladio shifted to kiss him properly as a distraction. It was an _excellent_ distraction.

All in all, it only took Ignis about fifteen minutes to get back to the house, and Prompto reluctantly had to disentangle himself from Gladio when he heard Ignis opening the front door. "We can pick this up later," he hissed at him, earning him one final peck on his forehead before Ignis was properly inside the house. From the front door it only took a few seconds for Ignis to make it to where they were in the kitchen area, but, once he was in view, he stopped, as though he'd walked right into a wall. His nose crinkled up under those glasses. "Is everything really all right?"

It took Prompto's brain a moment to catch up with Ignis' line of thought, but it did it was like a ton of bricks to the face. They didn't smell like sex, and they didn't smell like they'd showered. They smelled like them, on a normal day, not them after a date. _Ah_. At the realization, Prompto ducked his head shyly, knowing his face hadn't gone a bright red, but was definitely tinging pink. "We're fine," Gladio said behind him, saving Prompto from having to answer himself. "Just waiting for you."

Prompto could practically taste Ignis' suspicion as he glanced up just in time to see his eyes narrow behind his glasses. "Whatever for?"

" 'Cause we got you something!" Prompto turned to get it out of the fridge, the blush fading as excitement replaced his embarrassment. "I know you said to not get you anything--"

"I did," Ignis interjected flatly with all the disapproval of a dominant wolf who'd been disobeyed.

"But it's not like...a whole dinner." Prompto grabbed it from its spot in the door, and then bounced up in front of Ignis, proudly presenting the small Styrofoam box to him. "Tah-dah!" He waited, his hands slightly trembling as Ignis reached out and gently took the box from him.

"It's cheesecake," Ignis said a moment later when he opened it. His voice was soft and baffled, and, oh, how it made Prompto's heart ache.

"With strawberries, because you like strawberries."

"Yes," Ignis agreed, his voice still that soft, confused thing. "I do."

"Here," Gladio offered up a fork that Ignis took as though it would shatter in his fingers. "Eat up."

Ignis sat at the table, his movements stilted and a little jerky as he did, but he took a bite without complaint, and then another, and another after that. "How is it?" He asked as he wrapped his arms around Ignis' shoulders and sat his chin against his left shoulder to look down at the cheesecake. He noticed that the bites were small, but Prompto was pretty sure that was normal. Ignis wasn't a fast eater like Noct.

The fork clattered against the table, and in his arms Ignis was trembling, not the soft tremble that Prompto often experienced in excitement or sudden short bouts of anxiety, but deep tremors that made Prompto's heart hammer with worry in his chest. "Hey, Iggy, you okay?" He went to move back, so that he could get a better look at what was going on, but Ignis' hands grasped for his own, and Prompto stilled.

"Please, don't." The words were whispered, but loud enough for Prompto to settle back against him again.

Hesitantly, Prompto leaned a over a bit and rubbed his cheek against Ignis' own, pretending for just a moment that they were werecats and not werewolves. "This okay?"

"Yes," Ignis hissed between his lips, as though he didn't trust himself to speak any more loudly. "My apologies."

"No," Gladio said, his hands coming into view for a moment as he gathered up the rest of the cheesecake and stuck it back in the fridge. "None of that. Move back, Prom."

Reluctantly, Prompto obeyed, releasing his hold on his packmate, only to watch as Gladio literally picked him up like a child in his arms. "I can walk, Gladio," Ignis protested weakly.

"Didn't say you couldn't, just decided you're not." Ignis continued to protest in words that never quite became orders as Gladio carried him from the dining room to the living room, Prompto trailing along behind them feeling confused and worried in equal amounts. He continued to hover, even as Gladio sat Ignis down on the couch, and then settled himself down next to him, making sure their arms were entwined, and Ignis' head rested against his shoulder. "Would you turn on a movie or something, Prom?"

"Sure thing." Prompto's hands were now shaking as much as Ignis' entire body seemed to be, but he managed to turn Netflix onto Jurassic Park, because why not? With that done, he settled down on Ignis' other side, taking cue from Gladio and latching onto his other arm and trying to lean his whole being against Ignis. It seemed to help.

Ignis was deep asleep before the T-Rex showed up.

"What happened?" Prompto whispered, not daring to move his head for fear of waking Ignis up.

"I'm not positive," Gladio admitted, "But I think Ignis was touch starved, and when you touched him like that...it was both too much and not enough."

That was a pretty serious thing to say, Prompto thought. When he'd first joined the pack it had been stressed over and over again how alone was bad for wolves, how important touching and being touched was. He remembered how complete he'd felt the day he'd first met Luna, and he'd touched Gladio for the first time in a week. Prompto even knew he found a lot of solace and comfort from his stress and anxieties, heaped and deep as they were, in touch. For Gladio to say that he thought Ignis had been touch starved was as good as saying they'd been _abusing_ Ignis emotionally, denying him something he _needed_. He didn't want to think that, yet, when Prompto dug through his memories he found that he couldn't remember the last time he'd actually set out and touched Ignis on purpose, even just a pat on the shoulder. It might have been weeks ago. It might have been months. Prompto knew that for himself...three days would have had him up a wall. A week without any touch would have led to a breakdown way worse than what he'd just experienced with Ignis.

In the end, he was forced to say, "I think you're right."

"Dammit!" Gladio growled, "Why didn't he say anything? Why didn't he come to us? Why didn't he ask?"

"Why would he?"

"What do you mean?"

Prompto bit his lip, let a breath hiss out between his teeth, and then began. "If _I_ were Ignis, I wouldn't ask. Not when I saw the rest of my pack freely touching each other without needing to ask." And they did. Gladio and Prompto touched each other constantly, of course they did. They'd been touching when Ignis had walked in the house. Noctis was much the same, he and Prompto touched multiple times daily, at the very least with playful punches to each other shoulders when they played games or play fought. It was much the same with Gladio, shoving shoulders, fist-bumps, noogies, and hugs were things that Gladio and Noct shared on a daily basis, and that was just when one or more of them wasn't dragged off to bed with him for naptime and Noctis became an octopus. Prompto couldn't even remember the last time Noctis had dragged Ignis off to bed. Probably last full moon, but Prompto wasn't even sure of that. Ignis might slipped off to the shop anyway before they'd hauled off for camping. He couldn't remember. He'd been asleep himself.

If he were Ignis, and this was what he saw, well, "I would just assume that if my pack touched each other, but not me--" Prompto clenched his teeth painfully. It was painful to think it, but it was even more painful to push it out. "I'd assume that my pack didn't want me anymore."

He heard Gladio's sharp intake of breath. "That's not true."

"I know, but that's what I'd think." Even with his extra dose of crazy and Ignis' extra dose of sane, Prompto felt it was reasonable to think that Ignis would think that too.

They were quiet for a long time. The movie was still playing, but Prompto knew neither one of them was paying attention to it. They didn't care about animatronic dinosaurs on a screen. They were worried about Ignis. "We can't let this happen again."

"I know," Prompto whispered. "I think I know how to fix it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Prompto shifted himself so that he was sitting up more, and reached out, jostling Ignis' shoulder as gently as he could while still rousing him from sleep. It took a few seconds, but eventually Ignis' eyes opened just a crack. "Hey, Iggy?"

"Yes, Prompto?" Prompto allowed himself a smile at the way his spoke. It was thick and not quite there, very much like Noctis in the morning. It was cute, but now was not the time to dwell on that.

"The next time Gladio and I go on a date, we want you to come too."

"Prompto, I don't want to interrupt--" It was a testament to how not really awake Ignis was that he actually stopped talking when Prompto put a finger to his lips.

"You don't understand, Iggy." He glanced up at Gladio, who, seeming to be able to read his mind, gave him a slight nod. He nodded back, and he shifted himself again, so that he could very awkwardly lean forward just enough to brush his lips against Ignis' own. That was all it was, a brushing of lips, not even really enough to properly be called a kiss, but he heard Ignis gasp softly, and Prompto thought that was a good sign. "We want you to come _with_ us."

He felt Ignis' hand brush against his cheek, and he smiled at the sleepy, yet awestruck look on Ignis' face. "All right," he barely breathed out before that hand fell from his face, and Ignis was asleep again.

"That doesn't count, you know," Gladio said fondly exasperated. "He's not gonna remember that in the morning, or if he does, he'll think it was a dream."

"Then, in the morning, I'll just reassure him that it definitely wasn't a dream," Prompto huffed out as he flopped back into his spot and snuggled down. "I won't mind."

The second Jurassic Park movie had started playing by the time Noctis came home. "No one told me there was going to be a cuddle party tonight." Prompto bit back a laugh at the pout on Noct's face, and forced himself to be sober about it. If they'd asked Ignis out on a date, they couldn't leave Noctis out.

"Hey, Noct?"

"Hm?"

"We're...gonna take Ignis out on a date, and when we do...we want you to come too."

To Noctis' credit, he didn't get angry, or storm out, or even ask why. Instead, the emotion that he let bleed through was a little bit of surprise mixed with a lot of worry. "Something happen? Aside from hormones?" It was meant to be a joke, Prompto knew, but it didn't made him smile, instead it told him that Noctis already knew how they felt about Ignis. It told him that perhaps part of what held Noctis back from Ignis was exactly that. He knew how they felt, but he didn't include _himself_ in that knowing.

"Kind of, yeah," Prompto admitted, reaching out for Noct's hand, and squeezing it, letting a little of his aura wash over him, and feeling pleased (as he always did) when he visibly saw Noctis relax a little. "But we want you there, as part of a...maybe us." It was too soon to tell if this would or even could work, but maybe. Maybe us. Prompto wanted that. Us. All of us.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Noctis glanced over at Gladio, who supplied, "A car doesn't balance on three wheels, Noct. We need you."

"Really?" Prompto nodded again, and Noctis gave a little sigh that Prompto thought was maybe relief, or maybe even happiness. "Okay...yeah. Okay. When?"

Even with Ignis asleep between them, Prompto could feel Gladio shrug. "Soon?"

"Okay. Soon." For a second, Prompto watched Noctis shift his weight between each of his legs several times, and then, "Can I join the cuddle party now?"

This time, Prompto allowed himself to laugh, softly, so they didn't wake Ignis from his much needed sleep. "I'd be disappointed if you didn't."


	10. Driving Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto's passed his written test. Noctis is appropriately wary about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday!
> 
> This one is a chapter I promised a while ago about Prompto learning to drive. It's short, and it takes place about **three months after chapter eighteen** in _Finding Home_.
> 
> There's **no pairing** , and it **can be understood without** reading the main story. The ending is **neutral** , and this chapter is totally **canon** to the main story.
> 
> I'm not really active as a writer on my [Tumblr](https://charmkeeperix.tumblr.com/), but if there's a particular point in time, or a scene you'd like to see, or even just questions, feel free to drop an ask or something. *nods* I promise nothing, but I'm curious as to what you're all curious about, if anything.
> 
> Enjoy!

They said that alpha wolves could sense danger coming. They could just look at a situation within their own pack and know when something about about to go very wrong, and could figure out how to prevent that thing from happening. For the most part, this theory was something that Noctis liked to call b-u-l-l-s-h-i-t. He had a small pack, and even within that small pack there was never any notice of when anything was about to go very wrong, unless someone was throwing around a lot of lies. If he, with his micro pack of three, couldn't sense danger a mile away how could anyone with a bigger pack do it? It was just a way to pin everything that went wrong on the alpha. Mostly.

Why _mostly_? Because _dammit_ if Noctis wasn't sensing a dangerous situation right now.

To an outsider, it probably seemed like a very harmless situation. It might even seem pleasant or cute. In fact, Noctis knew that Prompto was being so fucking adorable with that sunshine grin, his fingers lightly pulling on one another nervously behind his back, his bright eyes looking up at Ignis, seeking his approval. Yeah. He was adorable, and Ignis himself...well, he didn't often smile like that, but when he did, it was very hard to keep reminding himself that he wasn't supposed to kiss those lips.

Yeah. Disaster was going to strike any moment now.

"You've done very well on the written test, Prompto."

Prompto fucking lit up at the praise. "Yeah?"

"Yes," Ignis assured him, flipping through the papers again, with that _smile_. "There are a few answers here or there that are incorrect, but you erred on the side of caution, and I cannot fault you for that. Did they give you your paper permit?"

"Sure did!" Noctis watched Prompto dig through his pockets for his wallet before flashing said permit at Ignis. Noctis worried his lower lip between his teeth. It was getting closer.

"Excellent." Ignis smile brightened, and internally Noctis groaned, both at the beauty of that smile and at the knowledge that that smile was a harbinger of the oncoming disaster. "Would you like me to set up lessons with a local instructor?"

"Actually..." Prompto brought his hands up in a pleading motion that made Noctis scream inside. "I was kind of hoping _you'd_ teach me."

"Me?"

"Yeah!" Prompto's head bobbed up and down excitedly. "You're the best driver ever! I totally wanna learn from the master!"

Was that just Noctis? Or had Ignis actually blushed from the praise? No. Not just him. Those cheeks were definitely tinged with pink. "Well. I." His voice was certainly stuttering a little. "Of course I will, if that's what you'd like. When would you like to start?"

"Uh...now?" And here it was. This was the disaster, and all Noctis could do without seeming like a giant asshole was wait for it to unfold and try to clean up the mess when it was over.

"I'm...just gonna wait here for you guys to get back."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Noctis said with a nod. "I wanna play some King's Knight, and I don't wanna get distracted by you blowing Specs' socks off with your skills." Or. Lack thereof.

"You're gonna miss out." Prompto prodded.

Noctis shrugged. "I'll live."

While they got in the car and Ignis began to properly explain all the controls, Noctis pulled out his phone and pretended that he was focusing on the game. When Prompto pulled out of the parking spot the car jerked, and Noctis winced. Several more jerks and a rev later, they were out of sight, and Noctis calmly walked into the house, past Gladio's bedroom door where he was sleeping, down into the pantry, and took out three cans of 7-UP, before walking back out to the front porch in the same, calm manner.

Inside, Noctis was anything but calm, but he waited.

By the time he could hear their car again, Prompto's nervous excitement had tried to burst its way out of his chest three times, and Ignis was dead silence, which was fairly typical, but Noctis still counting it as a bad sign. If Prompto were doing well, he would have let them feel warm praise. This radio silence was bad. Very bad.

Sure enough, the car screeched to a dead stop in front of the house, and Ignis was opening the door instantly. His face was pale, and Noctis could see that it was taking all his self restraint to not heave his guts out onto the sidewalk. "Iggy?" Prompto called out after him. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"He'll be fine," Noctis assured their omega when Ignis didn't, and he tugged him up the front porch and made him sit. A hand to his forehead was enough to confirm that he was clammy and warm, but it was nothing a few minutes in the cool autumn breeze wouldn't fix. "Do you know what this is?" Noctis asked, holding up a can of pop.

"That's 7-UP," Ignis replied weakly.

"Do you know what I want you to do with it?"

"Drink it."

"Sip it," Noctis corrected, shoving the can into his hands and clapping his hand firmly on Ignis' shoulder a couple of times before he stood up. "Wait here for us to get back." He hopped down the steps and back off toward the car.

"Noct, I'm not sure--"

"I'll be fine. Don't worry about me." He raised one hand to wave off Ignis' concerns, and then slipped into the car next to Prompto. "Don't worry, he's fine," he assured him again before Prompto could even open his mouth to ask five times. "He just...doesn't like roller coasters." Noctis smiled. "I, on the other hand, love roller coasters. Let's uh...ease up on the lead foot for a bit here though. You gotta actually go the speed limit for the test."

"Right," Prompto took in a deep breath and then puffed out his cheeks as he released it slowly. "You ready?"

"Yeah," Noctis said lightly, even as the wolf inside of him very much said no. "Let's go."

Prompto shifted gears. Noctis reached for the grab handle. He was gonna need it.


	11. First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the first night in their new house, and sleep doesn't come easily to Gladio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I recently realized that I have not written a single thing from Gladio's POV other than that first chapter. I also realized I had not written anything for Summer Home with **Promptio** being adorable at any moment. I decided to correct this.
> 
> The only real purpose this chapter has is to show that even though at once point they planned for Prompto to have his own room in the house ( and he does, technically. ) I've never...depicted him in it.
> 
> This chapter takes place the night after **Chapter 18** ends. It is **canon** to the main story. The ending to this one is **happy** , even though there is a nightmare in the middle.
> 
> Also, it is Noctis' birthday today! So happy bithday to him, even though he doesn't show up in this chapter.
> 
> Please enjoy!

The house didn't smell quite right.

It smelled like new paint, freshly waxed floors, and cardboard boxes. It didn't smell like Ignis' dinner simmering on the stove-top, Prompto's little tech projects that sometimes burnt out before he was finished with them, or Noct's lazy scent drifting over everything he bothered to touch. In short, the house smelled like a house, and not a _home_. It wouldn't last. They were living here now, their scents would fill the den and make it their home, but for now, it was just all too new to be home.

It kept Gladio awake. He'd grown so used to their den in that little corner of Regis' mansion where their scents were literally everywhere, that in his new room with the boxes still half packed, and the furniture all in different places, and the smell all wrong, it just...wasn't good enough. He tossed and turned, closed his eyes, and then opened them to stare at the clock, listened to the silence outside, punctuated by the occasional sound of a car rolling by, until, finally, all at once, he drifted off uneasily.

He dreamed of Ignis.

It wasn't the Ignis he knew now, who was kind, but closed off, who smiled weakly, was wholly selfless, and let none truly close. It was _his_ Ignis. The one who laughed raucously, who was playful in bed, who was needy, but also sweet. This was the Ignis that Gladio knew had died - the one he'd killed to leave a shadow in his place. He knew. He was aware that the Ignis in his arms wasn't real. This wasn't real, but it didn't make him wake either. Instead _his_ Ignis smiled up at him, mirthful, and pulled back, his hands pulling at one of his own. _"Come swim with me, Gladio."_

Ignis couldn't swim. They couldn't swim. They were wolves. They'd drown. Moreover, there was no water, and Gladio knew all that, but all he said was, _"We don't have swimsuits."_

Ignis laughed that laugh that Gladio loved and missed so much, and all his doubts fled. Long fingered hands drifted up to his face, _"Isn't it you who always says that when you're a werewolf nudity means nothing? We're werewolves, so what does it matter?"_

He did always say that, he did feel that way, but that wasn't right. Ignis had never felt that way, and he...He'd never been with Ignis when they were both wolves. This wasn't right. It wasn't--

His doubts were all gone again when Ignis surged up to kiss him. _"Please?"_

Gladio had never been able to say no to Ignis when he said please like that.

The bed jostled, and Gladio woke, confused, and still half in his dream. It wasn't Ignis that moved the bed though, and Gladio allowed himself a sleepy grin as Prompto crawled into his bed. He wasn't with Ignis anymore, and he mourned that fact. He mourned it a lot, but now he had Prompto, exuberant, energetic, adorable, and tech savvy Prompto, who balanced out their pack and brought them a joy Gladio had thought lost to them all.

"Oh, look," Gladio grumbled deep in his throat as Prompto thumped into the bed next to him, "A chocobo has climbed into my bed. What ever will I tell my boyfriend in the morning?"

"Shut up," Prompto growled, but there was no heat to his words, there was a smile instead, hidden beneath a not of exhaustion. "I couldn't sleep."

"Figured," Gladio mumbled, his arms lethargically moving to wrap around him and pull their bodies closer. He loved the feel of their bodies together. They were so different. Prompto was a tiny little twig, after all, and Gladio was...not, but it always felt good, and right, and there's always a feeling of deep satisfaction when they're this close. He loved it even more when Prompto sat his forehead against the hollow of his throat, as he instantly did.

"This okay?"

"Better than okay."

"I'm sorry I woke you."

"No," Gladio buried his lips in that messy mop of blond hair, both kissing his head and taking in his warm, springtime sunshine scent that's quickly become the most comforting thing he can possibility imagine. It always made a wave of affection wash over him, and right then was no exception. "I think I was having a nightmare anyway."

"Yeah?" Gladio nodded against his boyfriends head, and Prompto shifted, twisting his head up to kiss Gladio's chin, and a mixture of both Prompto omega comfort and his natural worry filled all his senses. "Tell me about it?"

He did. He told Prompto all about his entire dream, and he didn't hold back any details, not even the bit about Ignis' kiss that still lingered on his lips.

Any other boyfriend probably would have gotten jealous, sad, or angry, but not Prompto. His Prompto was so good and pure that he only nuzzled closer to him, as though it were possible for them to get any closer while they still wore clothing. "That does sound like a nightmare."

"It wasn't _yet_ , but..."

"You could feel, it, yeah? I get dreams like that too. I know if they keep going, they'll get bad."

"Yeah," Gladio squeezed Prompto a little tighter. He didn;t say it, but Gladio was pretty sure that if Prompto hadn't chosen to crawl into bed at precisely that moment, that the Ignis in his dream would have drowned them. Even worse, he's not sure he would have actually died. He'd had doubts in the dream, he could just see Ignis pulling him to edge of the water, and him backing out, only to watch Ignis willingly die in front of him without any way for him to help.

He squeezed even more tightly. No. _No_. That was never allowed to happen. Not with Ignis. Not with Noctis. Definitely not with Prompto. He had to protect them, his precious pack. They were small, but all the more important. They were all vital, and they all needed each other.

Prompto's fingers gently worked circles into his muscles, "It's okay," he cooed over and over, until Gladio finally began to relax. "I love you."

"I love you more."

"Nuh uh!" Prompto scoffed, clearly insulted. "Me!"

"No. Me." He insisted, pushing his face against Prompto's shoulder. "Definitely me."

They argued like that until Prompto fell asleep still murmuring, "No, I do," into his clavicle, and Gladio soon tumbled into sleep after him. This time he dreamed that they hunted a deer. They did, as wolves, as a pack, with the hunting song strong between them. They hunted and ate, and then Noctis turned them back into humans like a fairy godmother, and things were good.

When he woke up again, the sun shined through the window, and he could both hear and smell Ignis cooking bacon in the kitchen. Prompto was gone from the bed, but his warmth still lingered, along with his scent. That scent overpowered the paint, cardboard, and wax. It was the smell of the beginning of home.

"Hey," Prompto's voice called to him as he appeared in the open doorway, fingers quickly pulling his t-shirt down over his stomach so quickly that Gladio only got the quickest of skin teases. "So, uh, I thinking..." He watched his boyfriend antagonize over what he was thinking for a moment, teeth worrying over his lip, fingers tugging at one another. "I know, I'm supposed to have my own bedroom and stuff, and, I can keep it, you know? I can keep stuff in there, but...."

"But?"

"But, uh, maybe I could just...sleep in here? With you? Like every night? If that's okay."

Gladio grinned, reaching out and patting the still slightly warm spot beside him. "There's nowhere I'd rather you be."


	12. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis knows he has to say something that will convince Ignis to say yes. The problem is finding words that mean something strong enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday!
> 
> I know one commenter in _Finding Home_ was hoping that this chapter would be from Ignis' POV, and I am sorry to tell them that it's not, but I do want them to know that at the end of this chapter, Ignis is quite happy.
> 
> Anyway! This chapter takes place right before the end of **Chapter 30** of _Finding Home_ , and the main pairing this chapter is **Ignoct**. The end of this chapter is **content and happy**.
> 
> It's **canon** to _Finding Home_ , and I would definitely say it's **necessary** to have read the main story to understand this oneshot.

Noctis couldn't believe the things that Ignis was saying.

They'd been talking in ten minute intervals, with a timer between them. With each of Ignis' turns, it got harder and harder for Noctis to not interrupt. It's not true, he kept wanting to tell him. These things in your head, this feeling that you aren't loved or enough, it's not true.

The hardest thing was hearing that it wasn't recent. All these feelings and memories he kept talking about weren't recent. They'd only been exacerbated by the way they'd acted recently. He'd felt replaceable and undesirable for a _very_ long time. Even before Gladio. Gladio had filled a hole inside of Ignis for a little while, Noctis knew. After they'd broken up he'd dug the hole back up and then some. Broken, Noctis had once described it to Gladio. He'd broken Ignis.

Those words were apparently more true and lasting than he'd realized.

When these talks had started almost two fucking hours ago, Noctis had made a mistake. He'd been factual. He'd told Ignis what he would get out of their bond. It wasn't like Ignis didn't know what mated pairs got. He'd seen enough mates over the years to know that their energy was one shared between them, he knew damn well he'd get magic, he knew there'd be an openness between them that went even beyond that of packmates, he knew he'd get Noct's position in the pack (not that it was much of a change to be equal with Noct, when he was already second in a pack of four.) He _knew_ all that. If that had been what Ignis had cared about, they wouldn't be doing this. Ignis would have already given his answer.

Having realized that, Noctis was trying to figure out exactly how to convey how strongly he felt, without simply pushing the emotion through the pack bonds. Doing that wouldn't be enough. Not for his Specs, who they'd let drift so far away from them. He needed more. He deserved more.

He was going to get it.

The timer between them went off, and Ignis startled. Noctis snatched up his phone and reset the timer. "Do you remember the day I first met Luna?"

The rule was supposed to be that they didn't talk during the other person's turn, but he'd asked a question, and he was pleased when Ignis answered it. "Of course I do. I doubt I'll ever be able to forget it."

"I traded with her, for a future favor. Did I ever tell you what I asked for?"

"I don't believe so," Ignis said, frowning with confusion. "I've always assumed you asked her to return you to the park whence you came."

"Hm. No. The park was pretty much the furthest thing from my mind by the time I met Luna. Besides, we reconnected in the woods beyond the park." Noctis took in a quick breath, and in that same breath he pushed out, "I asked her to take me _home_."

"We were miles away from the mansion." Noctis smiled at how quickly the rule of no talking had apparently been forgotten, now that they were discussing a very specific shared memory, rather than just intangible feelings and moments. He was letting it go, he liked how Ignis was wanting to add, wanting to interact. It hadn't been like that, at first. He'd been so resigned at first. No, he thought warmly, this was the better path. "She didn't bring you home."

"Yeah, she did, actually."

"How so?"

Noctis didn't answer immediately, not expecting the verklempt feeling in his throat at even saying the word. He'd been trying to look Ignis in the eye for this entire conversation, he'd been trying to show him, even though he couldn't actually _see_ it, that he was serious and honest about this, but now his eyes drifted down to the bedspread between them, and his fingers lightly picked at it while he worked up the moxie to speak.

"You," he breathed out at last, the words barely able to squeak out past his throat. "My home," he coughed, hoping that it would open his windpipes, but it didn't, not really. "It was never that mansion. The building meant nothing, but when you embraced me that day, I knew. _You_ were my home." For a beat, he waited for Ignis to speak, but he said nothing, and Noctis pushed forward. "I only realized it that day, but you were home before that, and...have been ever since. I asked to go home, and she brought me to _you_."

He breathed in and out, panting as though he'd been running, but now he was speaking, and it was so much easier. It was too easy, the words kept spilling out. "I loved you, as a child does, but I didn't remain a child. You know that I'm not a child anymore, right?!" So many people couldn't see it. It was as though his sexuality defined him that way. He was asexual. A child. A Peter Pan. He couldn't grow up. He didn't understand. Someday, they always said, he might actually mature, he might understand. He might be an adult. He was an adult _now_! He had been for so long!

"You're not a child," Ignis told him softly, quieting the thoughts in his head. "You haven't been since even before you came into magic."

The words poked a hole in the dam he'd had up between them for such a very long time, and tears rolled down his face, even as the words kept coming. "My love...it grew as I did. I love you, Ignis. My home. My ears seek your heartbeat. I love the feeling of your fingers in my hair when I hurt. Your kindness, your selflessness, your gentleness, and viciousness. You. All of you. I love you! I've loved you for so long I don't know what it feels like to not!" He choked as he sobbed, the air both wanting in and out of his lungs at the same time. "You probably don't feel the same! I know that! But please!" He jammed his eyes shut, feeling the soaking wetness of his eyelashes on his face. "Accept my offer. I'll cherish you every day. I'll do anything you want. I'll make sure you never feel lonely and unwanted again. Just. Please." Please wasn't a word he used a lot, but it was the only word he could think of. Please. Don't leave again. Please. Don't try and leave again. Please. Stay. The terror and despair he'd felt when Ignis had been out bubbled to the surface of his heart, and the tears just wouldn't stop. "Take the bond. Let me take care of you. Heal you. Make you feel loved. Please."

The timer on his phone went off again, and this time it was Noctis' turn to startle. It definitely didn't feel like it had been ten minutes. It felt more like it had been two seconds. His shaking hands reached out to restart it. His fingers had barely skimmed the side of it when Ignis' hand covered his. "Don't bother, Noct."

"No?"

"No," Ignis' voice was gentle and soft, and Noctis both loved and hated it. "I have heard enough, and I have my answer."

"Okay," he breathed, anxiety and fear flooding his entire being as he sat up as straight as he could, doing his very best to keep his emotions to himself. He could do this. He could accept an answer. That was all it was. An answer. Then they'd move on with their lives. "I'm ready to hear your answer."

Ignis took his hand in both of his, and Noctis ached through the contact. He waited. He waited for what felt like forever before Ignis opened his mouth again. "My answer to this cannot be made with my body nor my mind. My wolf and I are beings of heart. We disagreed on Gladio, but we agree about you. We love you, and so our formal answer is yes."

It was not the answer he'd been expecting, and so for a second time stood still, but the pack bonds didn't pause or hesitate. They moved, and shifted, and brought Noctis back to reality. A reality where the bond between him and Ignis snapped properly into place, and there was no containing the joy that flooded him. Minutes ago he'd been crying, but now he laughed, overjoyed and overwhelmed as he reached out to cup Ignis' face, bringing them so close that their noses touched. He nuzzled them together, lightly, childishly, in a motion he remembered from childhood.

Ignis remembered too. Noctis could feel it through their bond. He repeated the motion.

"Can I kiss you?" He wanted to. Oh, how he did. He laughed again, but it wasn't his laugh, it was Ignis' laugh bubbling up through their newfound bond, overflowing from his mouth. It was amazing.

"You may do whatever you like. I'm yours."

His. Ignis was his. "And I'm yours, Specs. Always." Forever.

He kissed Ignis then. It was his first kiss, soft, chaste, and honestly nervous. It was awkward, yet delightful and intoxicating, the feeling of it, their faces pressed together, their breath intermingling, filled him from his head to his toes. One kiss was followed by another, and another, until, before he'd realized it, he was in Ignis' lap, their chests pressed together, his hands up in Ignis' hair, Ignis' arms settled around his waist. He blushed when his wolf whispered that this was where he belonged. Right there. In his _mate's_ lap. He covered the feeling by stealing another kiss, this one just as wonderful as the first.

"You're really tired," he mumbled when he managed to pull away again. The euphoria was starting to fade a little, not a lot, not enough for him to want to climb out of Ignis' lap, but enough that he was starting to feel things other than the happiness and joy.

Ignis' emotions were like the bubbles in a can of pop. There were a lot of them, constantly climbing up to the surface. Ignis had that joy too, that amusement, that happiness overwhelming his senses, but there were other things that were trying to dominate. The pain he was in was a big one, but Noctis was already ready to pull his share of it into himself. He'd spent so many years with silver wounds, sharing half of Ignis' would be nothing. He would _proud_ to do it. There were others that he could feel, like doubt, self-consciousness, loneliness, but mostly, right now, underneath the newness of the mate bond, was tiredness. It was almost like a wave. Ignis needed to sleep, and when he woke, he'd need to eat.

"Sleep," he tried to tell his mate (his mate! The joy threatened to overtake him again.) as he tried to wriggle out of his lap. He tried, but Ignis' arms kept him there, and Noctis' breath hitched in his throat when Ignis' lips touched his throat. Perhaps not on purpose, he'd perhaps been aiming for elsewhere, but it didn't matter. The motion was alluring.

"Stay with me?"

Ignis' doubt threatened to overwhelm both of them, and in answer, Noctis shoved every bit of his love down the bond, until Ignis loosened his grasp. "I'm right here." He whispered over and over, until Ignis allowed him to move, and he got under the covers of his bed.

It didn't take long for Ignis to fall asleep, but Noctis sat there, running his hand through his hair long after his breathing evened out, and Noctis set about trying to pick through all the emotions and thoughts his beloved could no longer hide.

There were a lot of them, but that was okay. Noctis would take the time. He'd promised to make Ignis happy, after all. He would do exactly that, no matter what it took.


	13. Lost Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis is lost. He must find his way back to his pack, but how, when all the trees look the same, and he's not even sure what he truly wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday!
> 
> Enjoy...this...this. Thing. I wrote. I spent like a week JUST writing this at one point. I wasn't even going to write this, until I wrote the other chapter and realized...I kind of needed to. Or that I at least SHOULD. So I did.
> 
> So I guess... This chapter takes place in spaces between **Chapter 24 and Chapter 30**. ~~omg was he really out that long?~~ There is **no pairing** in this chapter, and it is **canon** to the main story.
> 
> The ending is... **neutral?** , and I would say it's necessary to have read the main story to understand this.
> 
> Enjoy!

The trail was narrow, but visible, and Ignis was being very careful to follow it. He could feel the _tug_ pulling him along the path, threatening to drag him down it if he didn't go willingly, but there was need to worry about that. He certainly followed the path willingly. Ignis knew that at the end of that path was death.

Ignis was ready to die.

The forest around him was thick and dark, and it matched his emotions perfectly. He'd never wanted this life- the life of a werewolf. He'd always sought to die with his humanity, but then _Noctis_ had come along, and he'd felt the lightning in his veins, and his purpose had changed. That purpose had abandoned him too. He could no longer bring Noctis' happiness. He couldn't bring _anyone_ happiness. Making others happy brought him happiness, and he'd never been very good at making it for himself.

It had been time for an end.

It was a good end, Ignis was pretty sure. He was unclear as to the details, but he knew he was dying for something. Probably the pack. It was the only thing Ignis was sure would be a good end. If he died for the pack, to protect them, that was a good end. He would just continue to follow the tug down this trail to the end, where he was sure that the nothingness of death would greet him. That was the plan, and Ignis had always done better with plans. When he hadn't planned something, it tended to blow up in his face, like his relationship with Gladio. He hadn't planned that, falling in love with him, having a long term relationship with him, and it had fallen apart before his very eyes. He suspected that his death was like that. It was time, but he probably hadn't planned it like that. If he had planned it, there would be none of this wandering between. He would already be gone.

As though to prove him right, the tug suddenly stopped.

It was a strange sensation. Until that point, he'd been following a purpose, as he'd always done, but now...now... That tug had been death. Without that tug, death was not certain. The path to the end of the forest was still there. In fact, the end was so close that he could see it, a gaping black tunnel that he could run into. He could run, and it would be over. He'd never feel that dull ache of rejection and loneliness in his chest again. He would never have to feel _anything_ again.

He would never see Prompto's sunshine smile.

He would never hear Gladio's raucous belly laugh.

He would never feel Noctis' hands entwine with his own.

Ignis didn't want to feel his spiral of depression anymore, but he also didn't want to never experience the little things he loved about his pack again either. He loved them. He loved them until his heart hurt to beat, even though he knew they cared naught for him. Which was better? To never feel anything again? Or to feel a never ending pain watching his loved ones live while he watched as though he stood behind a pane of glass?

Ignis didn't know the answer, and so he stood still, unable to rush forward, yet also unable to turn back.

And eternity could have passed for all he knew before a din overwhelmed the forest. Noctis. There were no words, only a great gust of wind that carried despair and a rush of guilt. It howled against his ears, and tears ran down his face. Noctis was in emotional turmoil so great that it reached him even here. Instinctively, he reached out, like he always did, to run his fingers along their pack bonds, to let the comfort he could provide flow between them.

There was no bond. It was snapped like an overextended wire. He was truly alone, and he could not comfort his dear ones. The answer was clear. He had to go back. Even if it meant that he lived the rest of his own life in agony, he had to go back. He ran. He left the end of the forest, behind him and he ran back down the path as fast as his legs would carry him. He followed the exact path he'd come down, but it narrowed even further, and soon it was gone completely, and Ignis was surrounded by dense forest.

He tried to remember which way he'd come or gone, but all the trees looked the same, and without light, or a path, he was soon hopelessly lost.

 _'No, no, no!'_ He screamed, but no sound came out. He was mute. Trying to ignore the sheer terror of that, Ignis turned round and round in circles trying to find his way, and yet, he knew he was only getting himself more lost. He suspected that if he changed his mind and wanted to return to death's door, the path would reappear, but it was no longer what he wanted, and _life_ was so much harder to find.

Noctis' voice reached him from over the tops of the trees, barely a breeze, but he heard the words clearly from behind him. _"I love you. With all my heart."_ A lie, plain and simple, spoken only because he was here, and Noctis was desperate to keep his pack whole, but the words gave him direction, and he ran. _"Please come back to us."_

 _'I'm trying!'_ He yelled soundlessly up at the treetops, knowing Noctis would not know he called for him. _'I promise that I am!'_

No reply came, and soon Ignis was lost again.

The next time he heard anything it was Gladio, again coming down as a whisper from above the forest, _"We need you, Iggy. We're falling apart without you."_ More lies, but his mind didn't linger on it. He ran after the sound, pushing himself as hard as he could in the direction it had come from. It was gone too quickly, and he was no less lost than before.

Ignis swore, loudly, or it would have been loudly, if he could make any sound at all.

 _"Hey, Iggy, I got you some Chinese. You know. For when you wake up."_ Ignis was running toward Prompto's voice the instant he heard it. _"You gotta wake up."_

 _'Keep talking!'_ He tried to scream at the sky, pointlessly hoping that somehow the message got through. _'I can't find my way if you don't keep talking to me!'_ Naturally, Prompto said nothing more to him, and Ignis found himself running past the same trees over and over and over again.

He couldn't keep going like this, waiting for them to talk to him, to give him the slightest hint of direction. Eventually they'd stop talking at all, and he would be completely on his own. The trees gave no hints at all, they were all the same. Every single one was a deciduous, with a black trunk, and leaves so thick and dark he could barely see the tops of the canopy.

He couldn't stay still and wait. Ignis was starting to get the sense that something was following him, not a living thing, but that _path_ , that _tug_ that he no longer wanted. There was no sense of time in here, yet time was also running out. He could not stay here, in this in-between, forever. He either had to find his way back to his body, or go to the death he'd originally followed.

He walked forward. It felt like another eternity that he did so before something finally changed.

 _ **"There you are!"** _ Ignis heard no sound but a squeak, but the understood the words in his head perfectly, just as he always had with Umbra and Pryna. He turned, looking for the source of the words, and found it in a small fox-like creature with a small red horn on its head. _**"You're a hard person to get a hold of, you know."**_

 _'My...apologies?'_ No sound came out of his mouth, but the creature seemed to understand him anyway, its tail wagging back and forth.

 _ **"It's okay, I'm here now!"**_ The creature ran forward and put its paws up on his leg, its big round eyes staring up at him. _**"Do you want to return to your pack?"**_

_'Yes, I do.'_

The tail wagged even faster. _**"Good. Then I will guide you back."**_ The creature put its paws back on the ground and began to trot along, looking behind it every few steps to make sure Ignis was following. _**"This way."**_

Ignis did follow. What choice did he have? Death was coming, and he was lost, and this creature was the first thing he'd seen in a long time, the first thing he'd heard that wasn't fleeting. _'Are you?'_ He breathed in deeply, recalling memories of long ago, when Noctis had truly still been a child. _'Are you Carbuncle?'_

**_"That's me!"_ **

Noctis had said the thing was cute, and upon seeing it for himself, Ignis was inclined to agree. _'Why are you here?'_

**_"You need help. Does why I'm helping really matter?"_ **

_'You are a fae. They usually have prices or reasons.'_ Actually, it was usually both. Even Lady Lunafreya, who was Noctis' longtime friend couldn't do something for nothing, even if she really wanted to.

**_"I'm a guardian of dreams, and you are lost in yours. I am simply fulfilling my purpose at the request of a friend."_ **

A request from a friend. Ignis didn't dare hope that Noctis himself had asked Carbuncle to guide him, and instead he pressed forward after the fae, making sure it never got too far ahead of him. They walked for what seemed like hours, but was perhaps minutes or even seconds in reality, and then, to Ignis's amazement, the trees began to thin, and the forest began to end.

Suddenly, the wind blew so harshly filled all the space in his ears, _"Please come back to us,"_ the wind whispered in Prompto's voice. _"I know. We let you feel unwanted, but I promise it's not true. We want you. We love you so much. If you wake up, we'll never let you forget it again."_ The words broke him. It felt like his soul snapped in two, and the next thing Ignis was aware of he was on his knees, with dampness on his cheeks, and Carbuncle's little paws on his knees as it stared up at him.

**_"You really are a lost soul, aren't you?"_ **

_'I'm not sure I've never not been.'_

_**"He wasn't lying."** _

_'I...know.'_ Even for a werewolf, Prompto was a terrible liar. He generally only said what he meant, and meant what he said. Unlike Gladio or Noctis, who might lie while he couldn't tell the difference between the two, Prompto would not. If Prompto said he was loved, it was true. If Prompto said he was wanted, then he was, even if his heart twisted and whispered that it wasn't. Ignis knew Prompto better than that, or, at least he thought he did.

 ** _"They want you to come back. So let's go."_** The creature's small nose touched his own in a gesture of adorable affection, and Ignis genuinely smiled for what felt the first time in a very long time. He could certainly see why Noctis had been so enamored of Carbuncle after his trip to Faery.

_'Yes. I need to get back.'_

He staggered to his feet and they dragged as he followed after Carbuncle. He felt heavier, and he wasn't sure if it was because he was getting closer to life, or if death was trying to drag him back. All he truly knew was that as long as he followed Carbuncle, the trees kept thinning out, and he could feel that he was getting closer to his goal.

All at once, the forest disappeared, and before him stood a place he hadn't been in a very long time. It had well tended to flowers and a perfectly cut lawn. It was large, but not _too_ large, and it was stone. It was cold, despite the sunshine that came from above. _'I was twenty when I left this place.'_ He told the creature.

**_"Young and eager to find the place you belonged."_ **

Yes. He had been. He'd once thought that he'd be contented to stay, to work in the family's smithy, to occasionally run numbers or step in for business things, and know he'd never get recognition or praise for it. He thought he'd stay, and marry a woman he could never truly love, and know that if she mothered any children they were not his, for even then he'd known he could not bring himself to lie with a woman. He'd thought he'd stay and seek approval and love his knew his parents would never give. He'd never thought he'd be happy, but he'd known it was what he'd had.

And then Aranea had come and shoved him over an edge that he hadn't even realized he'd been teetering on. And then his uncle had sent a letter he'd never thought he'd get. And then he'd run. He'd run and never looked back.

Even so, _'I never found where I belonged. Never truly.'_ He'd thought he'd found the answer several times. He'd been a good silversmith, but age and eventually Noctis had shown him that wasn't his true place. Noctis had been his purpose for so long, but the reality was that he was only a placeholder for Noct, to keep him where he'd needed to be until he'd found his own place in the world. He'd thought he'd belonged with Gladio too, briefly, painfully. Then he'd given up. He didn't belong _anywhere_. His heart settled in different places where it wasn't welcome. Eventually reality always kicked him in the teeth.

 ** _"You belong with your pack,"_** Carbuncle told him, **_"That's what you've decided."_**

 _'Yes.'_ That was what he'd decided. Even if it hurt him every second of every day for the rest of his life, which he was sure it would. He'd stay, and make sure that they were all happy in the end. _'Because I love them.'_

**_"And they love you."_ **

Doubt filled his heart like water filled a pitcher, despite knowing that Prompto had said so, and knowing Prompto didn't lie like that. Little paws against his leg grounded him again, and instinctively, he reached down and stroked Carbuncle's ears, a gesture that the fae leaned into happily.

**_"I want one thing of you when you return, Ignis Scientia."_ **

_'I knew there would be a price,'_ he said, but he wasn't upset about it. This was just the way things worked. Nothing was free. The fae were just up front about it.

**_"I want you to listen. They will say a lot, and I want you to listen. Really listen, and act on what they say, and not what your heart tries to reject. That's all I want. Listen to them. Can you do that?"_ **

Ignis wasn't sure. For all his intelligence, he was an emotional person. He always had been, yet, this creature had led him out of his the forest, had led him back to the place where he could return to his loved ones. It didn't seem a lot to ask, for him to listen, and act on that. A fae could ask for a lot more. _'I will do my utmost best.'_

 ** _"Good. That's a good answer."_** Carbuncle paused (or was that _paws-ed_ , with those paws still patting against his leg?) **_"You must go through the house, and I cannot follow you."_**

_'I suppose it's a good thing I know my way to front door then.'_

In his head, Carbuncle chuckled, and sat down, its tail swishing back and forth like a cat. Ignis smiled again. Yes. No wonder Noctis had found it so adorable when he'd been a child. It met all of his cute standards. ** _"Goodbye, Ignis."_**

_'Goodbye.'_

He walked into the house, his heart hammering in his chest. The kitchen lay before him, empty and cold. He snapped the door shut, and then the voices started. _"Master Ignis! What are you doing here?! Get out of the kitchen!"_ The feel of a wooden spoon cracked against his shoulder, and it hurt more than it ought to have. For a second, surprise immobilized him, and then other voices began to fill his head too, the voices of his youth in this house. The maids, his mother, his brothers, his father. All of them were bitter and harsh in his ears. He felt the slap against his face that his father had doled out when he was sixteen, he felt his brothers' disdainful pushes against him, he even felt Aranea's tiny shoe against his shin and her shout in his face.

Underneath it all only one voice that he'd ever wanted to hear again whispered warmly, _"Run."_

Ignis ran.

He hadn't been in the loveless house of his childhood in so long that he almost forgot to take a right in the dining room and almost tripped on the ornate rug in the parlor. The voices and old physical interactions almost stopped him in the family room, but he pushed through, barely, to the foyer. The voices stopped when his eyes saw who was waiting for him there. _'Uncle,'_ he breathed, and he ran into the man's waiting arms. It was illogical for him to be there. He had never seen his uncle in his childhood home, though he also knew it had also been his uncle's childhood home. It was illogical, but there was no one else he wanted to see here more.

His uncle drew back, a smile on his face, _"You need to go back, Iggy. You need to go home. You can't stay here any longer."_

 _'I know.'_ He still couldn't hear his own voice, but his uncle smiled, and his thumbs came up to rub the tears from Ignis' face. _'I miss you.'_ His uncle had been the only person in his life that he had always been sure loved him. He'd been the only one he had always been able to turn to, and know would listen and care about what he said. He'd been dead for decades. He'd let him die.

 _"You know that's not true. I died on my own terms, giving that man nothing he wanted."_ His uncle smiled, _"You should live doing the same. You wants you to die miserable."_ That was right, or that sounded right. It was Ardyn. Ardyn had been the reason he'd been dying. _"Live joyously. He will hate it, and I will love it."_

_'If you dare say that you'll always be in my heart, I swear I will forbid Prompto from watching The Hallmark Channel.'_

His uncle laughed, as he would have in life. _"We both know I'm not really here. I'm your memory."_ He leaned forward a little, his face filled with that mischievous grin Ignis remembered. _"We both also know I'm right. He seeks to tear your pack apart."_ His uncle stepped aside, one hand grandly gesturing to the front door. _"Show him that he can't."_

Ignis touched the doorknob, and he half expected it to melt under his fingertips, but it remained intact, and with a deep breath, he turned it.

_"One more thing, Iggy."_

_'Yes, Uncle?'_

_"It's Sunday."_

Ignis opened the door, as he stepped through, he felt his uncle's hand at his back, ready to push him, if he tried to back out. It wasn't needed.

He opened his eyes. Doing that was a world of pain, which only made sense, considering that now his muddled brain remembered everything, including Ardyn melting one of his own knives onto his face. Truly, how was he not dead? First was the pain, and second was the knowledge that his pack bonds were back in their proper places, and he shut his heart, making sure they knew nothing of what he felt underneath. Third was the nothing that he could see. Truly, that was the worst part. It was logical, the smallest bit of silver directly to his eyes would have have taken it, it burned and damaged too much, but he also knew it was a death warrant. If not now, later, when Ardyn inevitably came back. He could not defend himself or others if he could not see.

Getting out of the chair was in was a struggle. He fell back into it twice. No. He wasn't going to cope well with this.

On his third try he managed to get out of the chair, and almost immediately he had the air knocked out of him by what he figured out a second later was a counter-top. He had assumed he was at the den, and that was the smell he got, but now he realized that he could strongly smelled the kitchen cleaner, and that meant he was in the kitchen.

Why was there a recliner in the kitchen? Why wasn't it in the living room with the rest of the chairs? Why--?! Ignis took a breath, trying to calm himself. He had to get out of the kitchen. Maybe, perhaps, if he could lie down in his own bed he'd feel better. Not physically, there was no feeling better than this physically, but maybe it would serve to calm him.

If getting out of the chair had been a struggle, getting to his room was a trial. Even with being careful and generally knowing where everything was he cracked his foot against every obstacle and it sent jolts of pain that he felt more in his left eye than he actually did in his foot. The only silver lining was that when he got to his room he could honestly say he hadn't fallen.

Navigating his room was a little easier, everything was precisely where he'd left it...days ago now, and he pulled back his curtains to...look. Not look. _Listen_. He listened. His uncle, or the figment thereof, had told him it was Sunday, but it had to be very early, because he heard no cars, and he had heard his packmates' sleeping sounds.

As though connected to the thought, he felt Prompto begin to wake up, Gladio closely behind him. They'd realized that he'd woken up, and his heart sped in his chest, and doubt coursed through his veins. He'd been asleep, if it could even be called sleep. It was entirely possible that everything he'd heard was just his brain trying to convince him to live, and none of it had been real.

His legs wanted to run, but where could he go? He'd barely made it to his bedroom without tripping. He was stuck, and moreover, Carbuncle had made him promise to listen. He didn't want to, oh, how he didn't want to, was _afraid_ to, but he'd promised, even if only in a dream, and so he would.


	14. Almost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis would give almost anything to be with his pack right now. Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday!
> 
> So basically this chapter is just what's happening to Ignis from the **end of chapter 38** right to the **beginning of chapter 41** in _Finding Home_. There are **no major pairings** though pairs are mentioned.
> 
> I would say that the ending of this chapter is **neutral** , and it's **very necessary** to have read the main story to understand what is going on here.
> 
> Other than that, I don't really have a lot to say here, except enjoy. <3

The evening had actually been lovely so far, despite the reservations he'd had about coming at all. The music was on the other side of the hall and it wasn't too loud. The bites of food he'd taken had been crisp, and delicious ( and yet also somehow insulting, once he'd figured out they were magically enchanted. He had not - did not, would not in the future - need magic to make something taste delicious. ) And though he knew that Ravus had not taken him aside for his sake, but for his own, being a little separate from the rest of the gala was a blessing.

He knew that most of the people who knew his age, Prompto and Gladio included, probably thought that parties like this one had once been his bread and butter, but the truth was that it wasn't so. He'd learned to dance, of course, and he'd known all the social graces he was required to, but actually attending parties...had not been much of his thing. He'd worked and learned more than he'd gone to parties. He'd gone to a couple, in his teenage years, but there had not been a Season for people of his social status. They hadn't been quite high enough on the social ladder for that. He probably would have had to go through multiple Seasons at Noct's side, if this country had done similar things, which they had, on one level, but had not, on another, luckily for Noct's awkward social bones.

Indeed, Ignis thought with a bit of a smirk, even this right now was bad enough that when he checked on their mating bond, he could practically feel Noct's discomfort radiating off of it. He was happy, because he was with Luna, but he hated the socializing bit, the polite hellos for people who's name Ignis was sure Noctis would forget in the next ten seconds.

Noctis would be happier when the introductions were done and dancing started. Unless, of course, there were dance cards he had to pay attention to. Ignis was fairly certain those had fallen out of favor by the time Noct had been born though. Even to Ignis' ears they sounded old fashioned.

More guests were announced in about ten minute intervals, starting with Lady Stella of the Summer Court. Each of the Nox-Fleurets were of a different court, Ignis was fairly certain. Indeed, beside him, Ravus' very aura gave off the chill of winter, and of course, Lunafreya was as warm and refreshing as spring. He'd never met the matriarch of the house, but he was almost positive that Sylva was the crisp autumn. That, of course, was part of what made their house so powerful, they had all their fingers in all the pies.

"Are you listening to me, Ignis?"

Those were the first words that had probably pierced his brain in at least a minute, so, naturally, the answer was, "Not really."

"Then what _are_ you listening to?"

"Noctis being socially awkward." That wasn't really listening, that was much more of a feeling, but it was definitely what he was focusing on, and so that was the proper and honest answer.

"I think your mate is--"

"Ravus."

"Yes?"

"I truly cannot convey to you how much I do not care what you think of my mate."

There was a moment between them that was so still that time might as well not have been moving before Ravus said, "That is one of the things I have always liked about you, Ignis. You don't care what others think of you, and you speak plainly of it."

"It's not quite true. I do care what others think, just...select others." It seemed like the number of others dwindled with every passing year. In fact, Ignis could probably count the number of people currently on that list with just his fingers, but certainly the three people at the top of that list were currently down there. Two of them were nervous, though for different reasons. Then there was Gladio, who felt an odd sort of excitement, the sort that tingled down to your toes.

He smiled, just as Prompto yanked on their bond, and then Ignis grinned. The two had been dancing for some time, they must have paused to catch their breath. He yanked back, twice, and waved down to the general area he thought Prompto might have been in after a couple of moments. He couldn't see, but he was sure that Prompto waved back. It was Prompto, so of course he did, and then, behind him, Ravus spoke again, and he turned to answer.

What they were actually talking about would be lost to him forever, for only seconds later, he heard the pounding of the announcer's staff on the ground, quickly followed by Ardyn's voice filling the entire building. "Good evening, you lovely party-goers! Just look at you all, dressed in your midsummer's finest. It's truly heartening, to know that this sort of shindig isn't truly dead." Ignis couldn't see him, but he could faintly hear his feet hitting each step as he walked down it. Slow, measured steps. Perfect for a slow, measured speech.

"Most of you won't know who I am, and that's quite all right! My name is of no consequence, but my mission certainly is! What is my mission?!" There was a thud that was different than the others. He'd reached the bottom of the stairs. His footfalls became lighter and a bit faster.

"I suppose we are to view him as a guest?" He breathed more than said in Ravus' direction.

"Unfortunately," Ravus breathed back. "He is here. He has a glass of champagne in his hand. He has physically attacked none. We wait until that changes."

It wasn't going to change, Ignis already knew, even as he gripped the marble so tightly that it felt like his own fingers were going to break under the strain. Ardyn was always a man with a plan, and if he had chosen this venue, he'd done it for a reason, possibly multiple reasons. Ignis would have bet good money that one of those reasons was that none would touch him, so long as he touched none. He hadn't been invited, but most of the guests didn't know that, and in the end, it didn't matter that much. He was here, he had a drink, and he hadn't touched anyone. That was enough to err on the side of caution and not attack, and it certainly wouldn't do for Ravus or Lunafreya to attack someone who appeared to be a guest. Even if they were spouting threats.

Sometimes the rules that were meant to keep fae safe and polite did their job too well.

The plan Ardyn had already gotten several steps into explaining had nothing to do with Ignis and his pack, at least not on the surface, but it had everything to do with the multitude of fae gathered for the gala. Ardyn's plan was to close the faery pathways, not all of them, of course. There were so many that doing so would be impossible. The problem here was that he was talking about the ones that fae such as these could pass through.

Noctis had fallen through a pathway, a circle, as a child, in fact that was how he'd met Lunafreya. That had been a rather small pathway, small enough for a mortal child, and a lesser trickster cat fae. Lunafreya herself had needed to use a larger nearby pathway to bring him back. That was the trouble. The more powerful you were, the "larger" the pathway needed to be, and the fact was there weren't a lot of big ones, and certainly not enough big ones that connected with one's own court. Closing the ones nearby, and then moving outward and onward to close others would be quite a bit of magic and prowess.

Ignis had no doubt that, perhaps with a bit of help from other malcontents, Ardyn could do it. It was a serious threat. It could throw the entirety of Faery into chaos.

"Now! Don't get me wrong, I understand that this will be quite some inconvenience to all of you!" His footsteps were picking up speed, as though he knew he were running out of time before someone risked guest rights and attacked. "But in time, I know we'll all come to see eye to eye! The Nox-Fleurets have been playing a dangerous game for over a century now, what with lending their hearts out to humans and other mortals. With their attempting to form bonds between courts that clearly do not mix."

He heeard Ardyn hop-hop-hop up the stairs, his voice's position shifting, and so Ignis shifted too. "I am not wholly a monster though! In the spirit of Midsummer's Night, I will give you until first morning's light to crawl back through your little holes. Just until then. Get started."

Two things slammed into Ignis' senses at once. The first was the din of the faery-folk beginning a quite human-like panic in the hall. The second was that Ardyn ought to be close enough for him to smell.

Ignis could not smell Ardyn.

It was a trap.

"Noctis!" He found himself screaming. His mate! He needed his mate's help! "It's not Ardyn!" Ignis breathed in deeply, only to add, "Find Prompto! Now!" without thought. Before, he had thought that Gladio would be Ardyn's next target. It had made sense, start with him, move up the food chain, but this was a big move, a huge move. The part about portals may or may not have been bluff, but coming here, risking it here...he was going for final confrontation, and Noctis was too protected.

There was a small jolt from Prompto's bond, and then it went quiet. He'd been knocked out. He was gone, Ignis knew. They wouldn't find him inside the estate now, but Noctis would track him, and Ignis supposed that was probably the entire point.

"Come." Ravus was breaking protocol by grabbing his hand without permission, but Ignis couldn't find it in himself to care about that, or the frigid cold of his skin. Prompto was gone, and perhaps one or more of his pack would be dead by sunrise. It was a feeling that left him as chilled and Ravus' hand in his own.

"Ignis!"

"Noctis," he held out a hand blindly, knowing his mate would take it, and he did. He held it between trembling hands, and Ignis squeezed them back in sympathy. "You need to calm down."

"How am I supposed to do that?! He's gone!"

"Yes. Our Prompto has been taken, and you are going to get him back. You and Gladio. Or do you intend to just let Ardyn have him?" That got him the soft, dangerous growl he'd been hoping for. "Good. Then you had better get going as quickly as possible. Please assist Gladio in changing."

"I'm changing?"

"Yes, love, Noctis will need your sword, and you will need your teeth."

"...Okay."

There was a rustling of clothing that Ignis knew was Gladio stripping down to change. It was a good thing that this task wasn't his to take on. He could smell enough people to know that his own insecurities would not allow him to strip and change in front of anyone other than his own pack. Gladio had no such qualms. Just then, that was a boon.

While Gladio changed, and Noctis assisted, Ignis ignored the panic that twisted in his own gut and retrieved Gladio's old sword. He hadn't held it since the day he'd given it to Gladio so many years ago now. It was heavy and awkward in his own hands, not the sort of weapon he could easily wield, but Noct would do just fine, and Gladio would be more useful in a magic battle with speedy paws.

He ran his fingers over the decorations on the sheath while he waited for the pain that flared up Gladio's bond to fade. It hurt more, Ignis knew, because Gladio was rushing it. Rushing a change was dangerous, but he had Noct helping him, guiding him, and Prompto was worth the rush. They had to get him back.

When the pain finally began to fade what felt like an eternity later, Noct lifted the sword from Ignis' hands. "We'll come back with him. Wait for us." Noct gave him a kiss too brief for him to respond to, and he felt Gladio's body slide like a cat's against his leg as they left. The giant door shut behind them, yet it sounded like it was in a different place, a different time.

"Why don't you come sit while you wait?"

"Shouldn't you be off ensuring the safety of the nearest winter circle?"

He could practically feel Ravus' scowl. "There are others already doing that, just as there are plenty of others at the other season's nearby doors. Even if there were not, I believe the threat was a bluff. His quarrel is with your kind, not ours."

"And if it is not bluff, and he succeeds?"

"There are worse fates than having to remain close to my sister while the magic works on new pathways. There are also worse fates than the Seasons having a common enemy and coming together for more than superficial parties. If Noctis is not successful tonight, we will be successful soon enough."

"How thoughtful of you."

Despite how Ravus tried to urge him to, Ignis could not sit. He paced, fidgeted, and felt useless. Their omega, _Prompto_ , had been taken, and he could do nothing but wait and not stay still. The estate, which had previously been bustling with people for the gala, was now eerily quiet, except for the sounds of him moving. His shoes and cane clacked on the marble floor. Even that was somewhat irritating to him.

The doors opened again, and Ignis foolishly hoped that somehow it was his pack returning whole and unharmed. He knew it was foolish. They would not return without a battle, and he would feel it, intimately. He would feel them hurt, fight, and possibly die, and he was stuck here pacing.

Lunafreya's lightly floral scent hit his nose just as Ravus began to speak. "And how is your wife?"

"She is still waiting for you to use her name."

Ravus tsked, " _Cindy_."

"She's fine. Pryna and Umbra are with her." Both Lunafreya's footsteps and voice drifted closer to them, "Go, Ravus." He must have hesitated, for a second later she added. "I have business with Ignis, and you have business with your court. Go."

"I will return. I will not abandon you to this."

"I know. Be safe."

"You as well."

He heard Ravus run, and then the door opened and closed again before Ignis dared to ask. "Business? With me?"

"Yes," she said from a position much closer to him than he had previously realized she was in. "Tell me, Ignis, what would you give me, if I told you I could grant you the ability to go help your pack right now?"

 _Anything_ , he thought, and in fact he almost said that. He would give her _anything_ , but then he realized that it wasn't true. "Almost anything," he said at last, because that was the truth.

"Almost?" She asked.

"Not my life."

"No?"

"No, because my life is not only mine." No. It belonged to Noctis, and Prompto, and Gladio as well. His pack, his loves. His life was not his own, it belonged to them. He could not give it up to save them.

"If that is what you believe, then you have changed since we last met."

"I dare say I have." How long ago would he have willingly died to see them safe? How long ago had Ardyn's last attack been? The blindness made time pass oddly, but it was not so long ago. He was different, very much so, and it wasn't just the mating bond that had brought about those changes. "So, unfortunately, if the price is my life, I must decline."

"Fortunately, that was not my price."

"Then what is the asking price?"

"I'm asking for what sounds like a rather abstract thing- Your comfort zone."

It was an abstract thing, an unusual ask for a price, but Ignis did not need to ask what she meant by it. He knew. He knew precisely what she meant. He knew she knew too. "Take it," Already his hands were up to his face, pulling the glasses off. He almost dropped them in his haste. "Go to our home, take my clothing, I'll buy new, different. I'll never touch spectacles again, or wear a suit, or gloves, just--"

"Shh."

Ignis fell quiet.

"When everything has calmed down, I will come, take, and we will discuss your parameters. For now, I will simply take these as proof your sincerity." His glasses slipped out of his hands, and that was enough for Ignis. "Hold out your hand. This will hurt."

He obeyed without question. The pain would mean nothing. A small object was dropped onto his palm, and yes, indeed, it hurt. It was silver. It was also...familiar. Ignoring the pain, he ran his finger along it, the swirling metal was definitely familiar, but different. Different, but familiar. "My--Gladio's ring?" The very ring traded for his own life not that long ago? "What's happened to it?" It was not the thing he'd made, it was familiar enough for him to recognize, but it was...rounder, different, _harsher_ somehow.

"You are not the only one who's been dabbling in item enchantment recently. Think of it as your ballgown and glass slippers."

"And what happens if I stay out after midnight, fairy godmother?"

"The magic will eat you inside out. I trust you won't let that happen. You've already said your life is not an option."

"I shall just have to hurry then." Not that speed hadn't been a necessity before.

"The ring will amplify your magic, but remember, Ignis, power is not the same as skill or control. When you are prepared, put the ring on and go."

He was never going to be more ready than he was right now. He put on the ring. It burned, and Ignis was fairly certain he screamed. Noctis pulled tight at their bond, and thankfully, Ignis found it within himself to pull back, and shove the feeling that was closest to "I'm fine." down it. It wasn't a lie, after all, he was fine, it burned, but there was something other filling him too. He was fine.

"Can you hear me? Look at me, Ignis."

Ignis turned his head to look at her, and that's when he realized that he could see. Or. Perhaps _see_ was the wrong word. He didn't think it was his eyes that were seeing things. It was his mind. Everything seemed to appear in shapes, colors, and light of varying intensity. Magic. It pulsed like a heartbeat from the ring on his finger, and jolts of it ran through him like electricity through nerves, and there was a glimmer of it in everything, but the woman in front of him...

She shined like a star.

"A goddess," the words fell from his lips like water fell from an open faucet. "You're a goddess."

He could not see her facial features, but he knew she smiled at him. "Maybe in a couple of centuries, but for now, I am just a woman. I am a woman who wants her people to be united, who wants her friends to live happily, and wants to go home to her wife at the end of the night knowing all will be well tomorrow." Her hands squeezed his, and he could feel the magic in them. It was nearly overwhelming. "Will you help me do that, my friend?"

There was something inside him that knew how significant it was that she had just called him her friend. He had never thought of them that way. They were not friends. They were connected through Noctis and little more. She had just called him her friend. It meant the world to him. "Yes. I will."

"Then go."

She released his hands, and Ignis needed no further encouragement to run. He ran all the way to the giant double doors, only to pause at the feeling of a familiar glimmer. It niggled in his brain. _Important. Important. Yours. Take me. I'm yours._

 _"You are not the only one who's been dabbling in item enchantment recently."_ The words rang inside his head as he realized what he was feeling. Prompto's gun, with the bullets he'd spent what had felt like a lifetime's worth of energy enchanting. He still didn't know what those bullets did. Perhaps tonight, he thought as he took the gun in his hands, they'd find out.

With his cane in one hand and Prompto's gun in the other, he ran. There were many scents, many trails, many sets of glittering footsteps heading in many different directions to follow, but only one glittering set were giant pawprints, and that was the trail he followed.

The trail became significantly easier to follow when he felt Noctis haul a huge amount of magic into a spell that felt absurdly complicated and unlike him.

Perhaps the ring was affecting Noctis too.

In the distance, the spell made a pillar of glittering white light appear. Ignis ran faster.

Lapping water filled his ears and the lake sparkled with ancient magic in his mind's eye by the time he was able to see through the wall of light Noct's spell provided. There wasn't much to see. They were on the docks, and they were already fighting. A wound on Gladio's shoulder ached as though it were his own. Noct shone bright with magic, pink. Gladio was fainter, a deep purple, almost blue. Prompto was fainter still, but gold.

Ardyn? Ardyn was black. Black. A great black nothingness that sucked in all that touched it. There was magic, a great deal of it, but he was rotten inside out. Ignis could not look at him for long without his stomach trying to heave up its contents.

The metal of his cane squeaked as he unscrewed it from its base, but then Prompto was thrown from the docks, and in turn Ignis threw all that was in his hands to the rocky beach as he ran after him. Suicide. It was suicide to run into the water, but he thought nothing of it. For Prompto, he would drown. If it was literally a choice between them...well, there was no choice. It would be both of them, or neither.

It took Ignis too long to realize that he wasn't getting wet. He was running, and the soft gravel of the lake belly gave way beneath his feet, but he was not wet. It caused him to falter and look.

The lake water had parted for him like a miracle straight out of mythology. He could not linger. It was him, he was sure, the magic within him amped up to its maximum, but as Luna had said, power did not mean skill or control. The water was parted now, but it might last a hour or a second. Prompto didn't have more than a minute. He ran again.

He came to Prompto still in water that did not part. He had to reach in and pull him out. Doing so was like trying to push your hands through layers of plastic wrap. It stretched, but it did not want to give way. Ignis pushed harder. He had to reach Prompto. He pushed harder and harder until it snapped, and he grabbed his unconscious packmate. It gave, but he could feel that it was also giving out. He had to run again, this time with Prompto slung over his shoulder.

He didn't quite make it back to shore before the water crashed back together, the force of it not just soaking, but almost pulling both of them back out into the depths, to be lost to it. Almost. They were almost done in by the very thing that had allowed him to get to Prompto in the first place. Ignis would be forever thankful for almost, even through the discomfort at soaked shoes and clothes. This discomfort meant nothing, next to Prompto's life.

Prompto wasn't breathing, and his heartbeat was faint as he all but dropped him onto the rocky beach. "Breathe," he begged, his hands pressing down against Prompto's chest, his mind fumbling over the basic steps of CPR maneuvers. "You must breathe. You are not allowed to leave us!" The words naturally did him no good, but the the CPR did. It took entirely too long in Ignis' opinion, but Prompto began to cough and sputter water, and his heart, perhaps his entire being, sagged in relief. "That's it, breathe for me, Prompto. Breathe." He himself took in a breath, perhaps the first real one in several minutes.

Prompto was still alive.

He was relieved, but the aches and pains in both his shoulder and legs were a grim reminder that nearby the battle was far from over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one ever expects the Ring of the Lucii! *cackles*


End file.
